GIFT OF ' ' '*{ ORDGR OF APOSTL0S GR6(D sytha jRav. Ge(ORG0 IJrtoem, M 1865. l.KuJCSlYN.WX A HYMNAL OF SACRED POETRY SELECTED FROM THE BEST ENGLISH WRITERS, AND ARRANGED AFTER THE ORDER OF THE APOSTLES' CREED. BY THE REV. GEORGE T. RIDER, M.A. NEW YORK: D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 443 and 445 Broadway. 1865. ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. PREFACE. THE Lyric, rather than the Polemic spirit, is the fairer witness of a living Christianity. Periods of scholastic heat are periods of ethical chill. When the Church goes forth in her mili- tant greatness, overthrowing strongholds of dark- ness and death, she is garlanded with hymns and spiritual songs. Flushed with springtime fulness of the Indwelling Presence, her heart wakes into Praise and Thanksgiving. In her conquering march she keeps step to the rhythm and cadence of her stirring chant and hymn. Ambrose, Luther, and the Wesleys wrought to such music ; and perhaps their Hymns are stronger and more persuasive with us, than are their Definitions of Faith and Doctrine. Hence, while the Ages all the way down, are littered with stranded controversies, wasted A 416520 iv Preface. and wasting, the dead leaves and blasted fruit of aimless thinking; their Hymns live with us, quick with spiritual forces, unspent and yet warm with the great love that inspired them. We reject their Definitions, and accept their Hymns, finding the Fellowship of Praise whole- some, and large enough for all our wants, over- living and outliving all that is merely incidental and extrinsic to the Church Life. Hymns are personal disclosures of the inner life : they bring to us all that is communicable of "the fruits of the Spirit." They come to us with all that words are permitted to bear of ecstacy, the trance and the vision. They are, then, our sweetest sureties of the greatness and reality of the regenerate life, of its promise and prophecy. The Hymnology of English Christianity, rep- resenting so many widely-remote cultures, in- terpenetrated with such rapturous, forceful im- pulses, prismatic with such variously-hued yet blended experiences, stands eminently alone and unequalled in its wealth and beauty. At the outset, kindled by the calm fervor of the Missal and Breviary Hymns, and the glow- Preface. v ing symbolism of a Church still guarding the fires of the early faith, the Lyric spirit is felt among the first developments of our Language, while the Anglican Church was emerging from the bondage of a dead tongue and dead supersti- tions. And recalling the general and cordial reception of the Christian Faith throughout England, we find full explanation of the Chris- tian temper more or less clearly defined in nearly all her poetry. Thus the Church at the Reformation found a new language waiting to do its bidding : a lan- guage that had grown with her own growth, and developed an energy and wealth of resource, while yet in its infancy, equal to the illustrious service of her Evangelists or Psalmists : the language of Spenser and Shakespeare, George Withers and Herbert, of Hooker and Barrow, of Newton and Bacon. The present posture of English Christianity is a complex result of many vital movements, at different times, acting from different centres of power. They have each and all wrought for the shaping of the structure as it now stands. This compilation undertakes to register some- vi Preface. thing of the Lyric spirit of this varied history ; and not without some reference to the pro- portions and relations which seem to have ob- tained between the Ecclesiastic and Subjective, the Retrospective and Prophetic tendencies which in their turn have quickened the Church. During the preparation of this work nothing has been more clearly manifest, than the con- tinual recurrence of deep and earnest unisons of feeling unisons of experimental life and Christian consciousness^ especially touching the Adorable Person and Offices of our Lord, floating down from age to age, in such unfailing sweetness, that a Christianity, which, to the Theologian, lies the fragment of a perished Unity, finds its way to the heart of the Worshipper clothed upon with the freshness of a living, loving Presence, among the Faithful, ministering in the name and stead of its Lord. The Poetry selected, is not generally found in American reprints ; and a large part, it is be- lieved, reaches the general reader for the first time in this volume. G. T. R. xrf ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THE APOSTLES' CREED. FAITH. I believe ..... x 8 GOD AND PROVIDENCE. In God the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth, . . 9 30 THE INCARNATION. And in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord j Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, Born of the Virgin Mary, . . . 31 64 THE ATONEMENT. Suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried} He descended into Hell, .... 65108 THE RESURRECTION. The third day He rose from the dead; . 109 124 viii Index of Subjects. MM THE ASCENSION. He ascended into Heaven, And sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; . . . 125 149 SECOND COMING AND JUDGMENT. From thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. . . . 150172 THE HOLY SPIRIT. I believe in the Holy Ghost, . . 173 184 FELLOWSHIP OF CHRIST. The Holy Catholic Church, The Communion of Saints, . . 185 214 The Forgiveness of sins, . . . 215 229 TIME AND ETERNITY. The Resurrection of the body, And The Life everlasting. Amen. . . 229 288 MMANUEL, Thy name we sing, The Prince of Life, of grace the spring, >The flower of heaven, the star of morn, Lord of all lords, the Virgin born. Alleluia. To Thee with angel hosts we raise The grateful anthem of our praise, That Thou art come to save and bless A world that lies in wickedness. Alleluia, For Thee, since first the earth was made, How many a heart has watched and prayed ; How oft for Thee, with anxious pain, Have seers and fathers sighed in vain ; Alleluia. " Ah that from Zion's hill the Lord " Would come to break our bonds abhorred ! " Ah might we hear the Saviour's voice, " Our Israel should indeed rejoice." Alleluia. Now Thou art here ; Thou slumberest, In lowly manger lulled to rest : Lyra Anglicana. 41 Maker of worlds, an Infant small, And naked, Thou that clothest all. Alleluia. Thou com'st a stranger in the land, Yet are the heavens in Thy command; Thou drinkest at a woman's breast, By angel hosts true God confessed. Alleluia. Then fearless I will cling to Thee, For thou from sorrow makest free ; Thou bindest death, our woes dost bear, To gladness turning pain and care. Alleluia. These lips my lifetime long would raise Glad alleluias to Thy praise, And in Thy glorious hall again, Where time is not, renew the strain. Alleluia. 42 Lyra Anglicana. THE VIRGIN MARY TO THE CHILD JESUS. i. 'LEEP, sleep, mine Holy One! My flesh, My Lord ! what name ? I do not know A name that seemeth not too high or low, Too far from me or heaven. My Jesus, that is best ! that word being given By the majestic angel whose command Was softly as a man's beseeching said, When I and all the earth appeared to stand In the great overflow Of light celestial from his wings and head. Sleep, sleep, my saving One ! II. And art Thou come for saving, baby-browed And speechless Being art Thou come for saving ? The palm that grows beside our door is bowed By treadings of the low wind from the south, A restless shadow through the chamber waving : Lyra Anglicana. 43 Upon its bough a bird sings in the sun ; But Thou, with that close slumber on Thy mouth, Dost seem of wind and sun already weary. Art come for saving, O my weary One ? in. Perchance this sleep that shutteth out the dreary Earth sounds and motions, opens on Thy soul High dreams on fire with God ; High songs that make the pathways where they roll More bright than stars do theirs ; and visions new Of Thine eternal Nature's old abode. Suffer this mother's kiss, Best thing that earthly is, To glide the music and the glory through, Nor narrow in Thy dream the broad upliftings Of any seraph wing. Thus noiseless, thus. Sleep, sleep, my dream- ing One ! IV. The slumber of His lips meseems to run Through my lips to mine heart, to all its shift- ings Of sensual life, bringing contrariousness In a great calm. I feel, I could lie down As Moses did, and die, and then live most. 44 Lyra Anglicana. I am 'ware of you, heavenly Presences, That stand with your peculiar light unlost, Each forehead with a high thought for a crown, Unsunned i' the sunshine ! I am 'ware. Ye throw No shade against the wall ! How motionless Ye round me with your living statuary, While through your whiteness, in and outwardly, Continual thoughts of God appear to go, Like light's soul in itself. I bear, I bear, To look upon the dropt lids of Your eyes, Though their external shining testifies To that beatitude within, which were Enough to blast an eagle at his sun. I fall not on my sad clay face before ye, I look on His. I know My spirit which dilateth with the woe Of His mortality, May well contain Your glory. Yea, drop your lids more low. Ye are but fellow-worshippers with me ! Sleep, sleep, my worshipped One ! v. We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem. The dumb kine from their fodder turning them, Softened their horned faces To almost human gazes Toward the newly Born. Lyra Anglicana. 45* The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks Brought visionary looks, As yet in their astonied hearing rung The strange, sweet angel-tongue. The magi of the East, in sandals worn, Knelt reverent, sweeping round, With long, pale beards, their gifts upon the ground, The incense, myrrh, and gold These baby hands were impotent to hold. So, let all earthlies and celestials wait Upon Thy royal state. Sleep, sleep, my kingly One. VI. I am not proud meek angels, ye invest New meeknesses to hear such utterance rest On mortal lips, u I am not proud " not proud! Albeit in my flesh God sent his Son, Albeit over Him my head is bowed As others bow before Him, still mine heart Bows lower than their knees. O centuries That roll, in vision, your futurities My future grave athwart, Whose murmurs seem to reach me while I keep Watch o'er this sleep, Say of me as the Heavenly said c Thou art The blessedest of women ! ' blessedest, Not holiest, not noblest no high name, 46 Lyra Anglicana. Whose height misplaced may pierce me like a shame, When I sit meek in heaven ! For me, for me, God knows that I am feeble like the rest ! I often wandered forth more child than maiden, Among the midnight hills of Galilee Whose summits looked heaven-laden, Listening to silence as it seemed to be God's voice ; so soft yet strong so fain to press Upon my heart as Heaven did on the height, And waken up its shadows by a light, And show its vileness by a holiness. Then I knelt down most silent like the night, Too self-renounced for fears, Raising my small face to the boundless blue Whose stars did mix and tremble in my tears. God heard them falling after with his dew. VII. So, seeing my corruption, can I see This Incorruptible now born of me, This fair new Innocence no sun did chance To shine on, (for even Adam was no child,) Created from my nature all defiled, This mystery, from out mine ignorance ; Nor feel the blindness, stain, corruption, more Than others do, or / did heretofore ? Lyra Anglicana. 47 Can hands wherein such burden pure has been, Not open with the cry c unclean, unclean,' More oft than any else beneath the skies ? Ah King, ah Christ, ah Son ! The kine, the shepherds, the abased wise ; Must all less lowly wait Than I, upon Thy state : Sleep, sleep, my kingly One ! VIII. Art Thou a King, then ? Come, his universe ; Come ; crown me Him a King ! Pluck rays from all such stars as never fling Their light where fell a curse, And make a crowning for this kingly brow ! What is my word ? Each empyreal star Sits in a sphere afar In shining ambuscade. The child-brow, crowned by none, Keeps its unchildlike shade. Sleep, sleep, my crownless One ! IX. Unchildlike shade ! No other babe doth wear An aspect very sorrowful, as thou. < No small babe-smiles, my watching heart has seen, To float like speech the speechless lips between. 48 Lyra Anglicana. No dovelike cooing in the golden air, No quick short joys of leaping babyhood. Alas, our earthly good In heaven thought evil, seems too good for Thee: Yet, sleep, my weary One ! x. And then the drear sharp tongue of prophecy, With the dread sense of things which shall be done, Doth smite me inly, like a sword ! a sword ? (That c smites the shepherd/) Then I think aloud The words c despised,' c rejected,' every word Recoiling into darkness as I view The DARLING on my knee. Bright angels move not ! lest ye stir the cloud Betwixt my soul and His futurity ! I must not die, with mother's work to do, And could not live and see. XI. It is enough to bear This image still and fair This holier in sleep, Than a saint at prayer : Lyra Anglicana. 49 This aspect of a child Who never sinned or smiled ; This Presence in an infant's face ; This sadness most like love, This love than love more deep. This weakness like omnipotence It is so strong to move. Awful is this watching place, Awful what I see from hence A King, without regalia, A God, without the thunder, A child, without the heart for play ; Ay, a Creator, rent asunder From His first glory and cast away On His own world, for me alone To hold in hands created, crying Son ! XII. That tear fell not on Thee Beloved, yet Thou stirrest in Thy slumber ! THOU, stirring not for glad sounds out of number Which through the vibratory palm trees run From summer wind and bird, So quickly hast Thou heard A tear fall silently ? Wak'st Thou, O loving One ? ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 3 50 Lyra Anglicana. HYMN TO THE NAME OF JESUS. OME lovely name ! life of our hope ! Lo, we hold our hearts wide ope ! Unlock thy cabinet of day, Dearest sweet, and come away. Lo, how the thirsty lands Gasp for thy golden show'rs, with long-stretch'd hands ! Lo, how the labouring earth, That hopes to be All heaven by thee, Leaps at thy birth ! The attending world, to wait thy rise, First turn'd to eyes ; And then, not knowing what to do, Turn'd them to tears, and spent them too. Come, royal name ! and pay the expense Of all this precious patience : Oh, come away And kill the death of this delay. Oh, see, so many worlds of barren years Melted and measured out in seas of tears ! Lyra Anglicana. 51 Oh, see the weary lids of wakeful hope (Love's eastern windows) all wide ope With curtains drawn, To catch the daybreak of thy dawn ! Oh, dawn at last, long-look'd-for day ! Take thine own wings and come away. Lo, where aloft, it comes ! It comes, among The conduct of adoring spirits, that throng Like diligent bees, and swarm about it. Oh, they are wise, And know what sweets are suck'd from out it. It is the hive By which they thrive, Where all their hoard of honey lies. Lo, where it comes, upon the snowy dove's Soft back, and brings a bosom big with loves. Welcome to our dark world thou womb of day ! Unfold thy fair conceptions ; and display The birth of our bright joys. Oh, thou compacted Body of blessings ! spirit of souls extracted ! Oh dissipate thy spicy powers, Cloud of condensed sweets ! and break upon us In bajmy showers! Oh fill our senses, and take from us All force of so profane a fallacy, To think aught sweet but that which smells of thee. 52 Lyra Anglicana. Fair flow'ry name ! in none but thee, And thy nectareal fragrancy, Hourly there meets An universal synod of all sweets ; Sweet name ! in thy each syllable A thousand blest Arabias dwell ; A thousand hills of frankincense ; Mountains of myrrh, and beds of spices, And ten thousand paradises, The soul that tastes thee, takes from thence. How many unknown worlds there are Of comforts, which thou hast in keeping ! How many thousand mercies there In pity's soft lap lie a-sleeping ! Happy he who has the art To awake them, And to take them Home, and lodge them in his heart. Oh, that it were as it was wont to be, When thy old friends, on fire all full of thee, Fought against frowns with smiles ; gave glorious chase To persecutions ; and against the face Of death and fiercest dangers, durst with brave And sober pace march on to meet a grave. On their bold breasts about the world they bore thee ; And to the teeth of hell stood up to teach thee ; Lyra Anglicana. 53 In the centre of their inmost souls they wore thee, Where rack and torment striv'd in vain to reach thee. Little, alas ! thought they Who tore the fair breasts of thy friends, Their fury but made way For thee, and serv'd them in thy glorious ends. What did their weapons, but with wider pores Enlarge thy flaming breasted lovers, More freely to transpire That impatient fire The heart th^t hides thee hardly covers ? What did their weapons, but set wide the doors For thee ? fair purple doors of love's devising ; The ruby windows which enrich'd the east Of thy so oft-repeated rising. Each wound of theirs was thy new morning, And re-enthron'd thee in thy rosy nest, With blush of thine own blood thy day adorning : It was the wit of love o'erflow'd the bounds Of wrath, and made the way through all these wounds. Welcome, dear, all-adored name ! For sure there is no knee That knows not thee ; Or if there be such sons of shame, Alas ! what will they do, 54 Lyra Anglicana. When stubborn rocks shall bow, And hills hang down their heav'n-saluting heads To seek for humble beds Of dust, where, in the bashful shades of night, Next to their own low nothing they may lie, And couch before the dazzling light of thy dread Majesty. They that by love's mild dictate now Will not adore thee, Shall then, with just confusion, bow And break before thee. RICHARD CRASHAW, (1644.) Lyra Anglicana. 55 KTRIE ELEISON. ORD, many times I am aweary quite Of mine own self, my sin, my vanity Yet be not Thou, or I am lost out- right, Weary of me. And hate against myself I often bear, And enter with myself in fierce debate ; Take Thou my part against myself, nor share In that just hate ! rv. Best friends might loathe us, if what things per- verse We know of our own selves, they also knew ; Lord, Holy One ! if Thou who knowest worse Shouldst loathe us too ! R. C. TRENCH. 56 Lyra Anglicana. THE SHADOW OF A GREAT ROCK IN A WEARY LAND. HE pathways of Thy land are little changed Since Thou wert there ; The busy world through other ways hath ranged, And left these bare. The rocky path still climbs the glowing steep Of Olivet, Though rains of two millenniums wear it deep, Men tread it yet. Still to the gardens o'er the brook it leads, Quiet and low, Before his sheep the shepherd on it treads, His voice they know. The wild fig throws broad shadows o'er it still, As once o'er Thee ; Peasants go home at evening up that hill To Bethany. Lyra Anglicana. 57 And as when gazing Thou didst weep o'er them From height to height, The white roofs of discrowned Jerusalem Burst on our sight. These ways were strew'd with garments once and palm, Which we tread thus ; Here through Thy triumph on Thou passedst, calm, On to Thy cross. The waves have washed fresh sand upon the shore Of Galilee; But chiselled on the hill-sides evermore Thy paths we see. Man has not changed them in that slumbering land, Nor time effaced ; Where Thy feet trod to bless me still may stand ; All can be traced. Yet we have traces of Thy footsteps far Truer than these ; Where'er the poor and tried and suffering are, Thy steps faith sees. 3* 58 Lyra Anglicana. Nor with fond sad regrets Thy steps we trace ; Thou art not dead ! Our faith is onward till we see Thy face And hear Thy tread. And now wherever meets Thy lowliest band In praise and prayer, There is Thy presence, there Thy Holy Land Thou, Thou art there ! Author of the " Three Wakings" Lyra Anglicana. 59 THY LIGHT IS COME. O W brightly dawns the Morning Star, With mercy coming from afar ! The host of heaven rejoices ; O righteous Branch, O Jesse's Rod, Thou Son of man, and Son of God, We too will lift our voices. Jesu ! Jesu ! Holy, holy, yet most lowly, Draw Thou near us: Great Emmanuel, stoop and hear us. Though circled by the hosts on high, He deigned to cast a pitying eye Upon his helpless creature ; The whole creation's Head and Lord, By highest Seraphim adored, Assumed our very nature : Jesu, grant us, Through Thy merit, to inherit Thy salvation ; Hear, O hear our supplication. 60 Lyra Anglicana. Then will we to the world make known The love Thou hast to outcasts shown In calling them before Thee : And seek each day to be more meet To join the throng who at Thy feet Unceasingly adore Thee. Living, dying, From Thy praises, mighty Jesus, Shrink we never. Sing we forth Thy love for ever. Rejoice, ye heavens j and earth reply: With praise, ye sinners, fill the sky For love so condescending. Incarnate God, put forth Thy power, Ride on, ride on, great Conqueror, Thy glory wide extending. Amen, amen ! Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! Praise be given To Thy name in earth and heaven. Lyra Anglicana. 61 ON A PICTURE OF THE ADORATION OF THE MAGIANS. ITTLE pomp of earthly state On His lowly steps might wait ; Few the homages and small, That the guilty earth at all Was permitted to accord To her King and hidden Lord : Therefore do we set more store On these few and prize them more ; Dear to us for this account Is the glory of the Mount, When bright beams of light did spring Through the sackcloth covering Rays of glory forced their way Through the garments of decay, With which, as with a cloak, he had His divinest splendors clad : Dear the lavish ointment shed On His feet and sacred head; And the high-raised hopes sublime, And the triumph of the time, 62 Lyra Anglicana, When through Zion's streets the way Of her peaceful Conqueror lay, Who, fulfilling ancient fame, Meek and with salvation came. But of all this scanty state That upon his steps might wait, Dearest are those Magian kings, With their far-brought offerings. From what region of the morn Are ye come, thus travel-worn, With those boxes pearl-embossed, Caskets rare, and gifts of cost? While, your swart attendants wait At the stable's outer gate, And the camels lift their head High above the lowly shed ; Or are seen, a long-drawn train, Winding down into the plain, From beyond the light-blue line Of the hills in distance fine. Dear for your own sake, whence are ye ? Dearer for the mystery That is round you on what skies Gazing, saw you first arise Through the darkness that clear star, Which has marshalled you so far, Even unto this strawy tent Lyra Anglicana. 63 Dancing up the Orient ? Shall we name you kings indeed, Or is this our idle creed ? Kings of Seba, with the gold And the incense long foretold ? Would the Gentile world by you First-fruits pay of tribute due ? Or have Israel's scattered race, From their unknown hiding-place, Sent to claim their part and right In the child new-born to-night ? But although we may not guess Of your lineage, not the less We the self-same gifts would bring, For a spiritual offering. May the frankincense, in air As it climbs, instruct our prayer, That it ever upward tend, Ever struggle to ascend, Leaving earth, yet ere it go Fragrance rich diffuse below. As the myrrh is bitter-sweet, So in us may such things meet, As unto the mortal taste Bitter seeming, yet at last Shall to them who try be known To have sweetness of their own 64 Lyra Anglicana. Tears for sin, which sweeter far Than the world's mad laughters are j Desires, that in their dying give Pain, but die that we may live. And the gold from Araby Fitter symbol who could see Of the love which, thrice refined, Love to God and to our kind, Duly tendered, he will call Choices sacrifice of all ? Thus so soon as far apart From the proud world, in our heart, As in stable dark defiled, There is born the Eternal Child, May to Him, the spirit's Kings Yield their choicest offerings; May the Affections, Reason, Will, Wait upon Him to fulfil His behests, and early pay Homage to His natal day. R. C. TRENCH. Lyra Anglicana. 65 THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. " He went out into a mountain to pray, and continued all night in prayer to God." St. Luke vi. 12. HOU didst love the evening hours, Saviour of the world and me, And the closing of the flowers Brought welcome rest to Thee, As the hireling gladly sees The long shadows of the trees. Rest, but not on beds of down, Curtained close in soft repose ; Thou didst seek the mountain's crowns Where the shady olive grows, Thou didst find a place of prayer, Commune with Thy Father there. Ah, methinks I see Thee now, Climbing, late, the mountain side ; Cool night-breezes fan Thy brow, Days long cares in shadows hide: Far below the eastern steep Salem lies in double sleep ! 66 Lyra Anglicana. All day long those hands of Thine Mercy's almoners have been ; All day long those eyes Divine Sights of want and woe have seen; All day long those ears have heard Many a harsh and sinful word. Rest Thee, Saviour, rest Thee now ! Let Thy weary eyelids close ; On the lonely mountain's brow Nought shall break Thy calm repose ; Of Thy slumbers shall be born Strength for toil with coming morn. Angel hands Thy couch shall spread On the green and mossy sward ; At Thy feet and at Thy head Cherubim keep watch and ward : Bright, like his at Luz shall be Midnight visions unto Thee ! Nay He rests not see Him there, Kneeling low upon the sod, All the burden of His prayer Pouring forth as man to God ; Far away from earthly jars, In the clear, calm light of stars. Lyra Anglicana. 67 For Himself He prays awhile, Strength to do His will on earth ; He whose spirit knew no guile, Bore no taint of sinful birth ; Strength to bear His Father's frown, Grace to spurn the proffered crown. Then for those few simple sheep, Earnest of His future fold, Fervent yearnings upward leap, Faith and Hope for them grow bold ; Angel censors through the air Waft the perfume of His prayer. But the first gray light of morning Pierces now the Olive shade j Early birds with gentle warning, Carol through the leafy glade ; All unrested, save by prayer, Jesus drinks the morning air. Saviour ! let Thy evening hours Dear to us, Thy children, be ; With clasped hands, as folded flowers, Praying earnestly to Thee, Let our vesper-worship rise Incense-like before Thine eyes ; 68 Lyra Anglicana. Then, when that dark even-tide Closes in our life's long day, And, like some steep mountain-side, Frowns the last and lonesome way, Bright to us that path shall be, Found alone, O Lord, with Thee. C. L. FORD. Lyra Anglicana. 69 GE THSEMA NE. | HE night is dark behold, the shade was deeper In the still garden of Gethsemane, When the calm Voice awoke the weary sleeper, " Couldst thou not watch an hour alone with Me?" O thou, so weary of thy self-denials, And so impatient of thy little cross, Is it so hard to bear thy daily trials To count all earthly things a gainful loss ? What if thou always sufferest tribulation ? What if thy Christian warfare never cease ? The gaining of the quiet habitation Shall gather thee to everlasting peace. Here are we all to suffer, walking lonely The path that Jesus once Himself hath gone ; Watch thou this hour in trustful patience only, This one dark hour before the eternal dawn : 7 Lyra Anglicana. And He will come in His own time from Heaven, To set His earnest-hearted children free; Watch only through this dark and painful even, And the bright morning yet will break for thee. Lyra Anglicana. FOR GOOD FRIDAY. " Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by ? Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto My sorrow." ESUS, mighty Sufferer! say, How shall we this dreadful day Near Thee draw and to Thee pray ? We whose proneness to forget Thy dear love on Olivet, Bathed Thy brow with bloody sweat ; We, who still in thought and deed Often hold the bitter reed To Thee, in Thy time of need ; Canst Thou pardon us, and pray, As for those who on this day Took Thy precious life away ? Yes, Thy blood is all my plea ; It was shed, and shed for me, Therefore to Thy Cross I flee. 72 Lyra Anglicana. At Thy feet, in dust and shame, I dare breathe Thy holy Name, And Thy great salvation claim. Jesu, deign in love to take Pity on my soul, and make This day bright for Thy dear sake. Amen, Lyra Anglicana. 73 THE POWER OF THE CROSS. " And they that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts." Gal. v. CROSS, we hail thy bitter reign ; O come, thou well-beloved guest, Whose sorest sufferings work not pain, Whose heaviest burden is but rest. For is not our Redeemer bound In closest ties of love to those Who faithful to the Cross are found Through ceaseless tears, through saddest woes ? Pledge of our glorious home afar, Thee, holy sign, with joy we take, Sign of a peace life cannot mar, Of just content death cannot shake : The sign, how truth, once crucified Now throned in majesty doth reign, How love is blest and glorified, Which here on earth was mocked and slain. 4 74 Lyra Anglicana. Their names are writ in words of light Who here on earth their Lord confessed : They hear the Bridegroom's cry at night, Come to my marriage feast, ye blest. Who then would faint, nor gladly share In Christ's reproach, in want or pain ? The bitterest death who would not dare With joy, the martyr's crown to gain ? CATHERINE WINKWORTH, "Zyr. Ger" Lyra Anglicana. 75 AND THE PEOPLE STOOD BEHOLD- ING. I WEET the moments, rich in bless- ing, Which before the Cross we spend, Life, and health, and peace possess- ing From the sinner's dying Friend. Rest we here, for ever viewing Mercy's streaming fount of blood ; Precious drops, our soul bedewing, Plead and claim our peace with God. Truly blessed is the station; Low before His Cross we lie, While we see divine compassion Beaming from His earnest eye : Here we feel our sins forgiven, While upon the Lamb we gaze, And our thoughts are all of heaven, And our hearts overflow with praise. 76 Lyra Anglicana. For Thy sorrows we adore Thee, For the pains that wrought our peace ; Gracious Saviour, we implore Thee, In our souls Thy love increase : Still in ceaseless contemplation Fix our hearts and eyes on Thee, Till we taste Thy full salvation, And unveiled Thy glories see. Amen, BRYDGES. Lyra Anglicana. 77 JESUS OUR LOVE IS CRUCIFIED. If IS Mother cannot reach His face ; She stands in helplessness beside, Her heart is martyred with her Son's, Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! What was Thy crime, my dearest Lord ? By earth, by heaven, Thou hast been tried, And guilty found of too much love ; Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! Found guilty of excess of love, It was Thine own sweet will that tied Thee tighter far than helpless nails ; Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! O come and mourn with me awhile ; See Mary calls us to her side ; O come and let us mourn with her ; Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! 78 Lyra Anglicana. Have we no tears to shed for Him, While soldiers scoff and Jews deride ? Ah ! look how patiently He hangs, Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! O break, O break, hard heart of mine ! Thy weak self-love and guilty pride His Pilate and His Judas were ; Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! Come, take thy stand beneath the Cross, And let the Blood from out that Side Fall gently on thee drop by drop ; Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! A broken heart, a fount of tears, Ask, and they will not be denied ; A broken heart love's cradle is ; Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! O Love of God ! O Son of Man ! In this dread act Your strength is tried ; And victory remains with love, For He, our Love, is crucified ! FABER. Lyra Anglicana. 79 NOW THERE STOOD BT THE CROSS OF JESUS HIS MOTHER. T the Cross her station keeping, Stood the mournful Mother weeping, Where He hung, the dying Lord ; For her soul of joy bereaved, Bowed with anguish, deeply grieved, Felt the sharp and piercing sword. O how sad and sore distressed Nor was she, that Mother blessed Of the sole begotten One ; Deep the woe of her affliction When she saw the crucifixion Of her ever-glorious Son. Who on Christ's dear Mother gazing, Pierced by anguish so amazing, Born of woman would not weep ? Who on Christ's dear Mother thinking, Such a cup of sorrow drinking, Would not share her sorrows deep ? 80 Lyra Anglicana. For His people's sins chastised She beheld her Son despised, Scourged and crowned with thorny wreath ; Saw Him then from judgment taken, Mocked by foes, by friends forsaken, Till He gave His soul to death. Jesu, may such deep devotion Stir in me the same emotion, Fount of love, Redeemer kind, That my heart, fresh ardour gaining, And a purer love attaining, May with Thee acceptance find. Amen. ,~ Lyra Anglicana. 81 LIGHT FROM THE CROSS. "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto Me." LAMP of Life ! that on the bloody Cross Dost hang, the Beacon of our wandering race, To guide us homeward to our resting-place, And save our best wealth from eternal loss ! So purge my inward sight from earthly dross, That, fix'd upon Thy Cross, or near or far, In all the storms this weary bark that toss, (Whatever be lost in that tempestuous war,) Thee I retain, my Compass and my Star ! That, when arrived upon the wish'd-for strand, I pass of death th' irrevocable bar, And at the gate of Heaven trembling stand, The everlasting doors may open wide, And give Thee to my sight, God glorified ! CHARLES DYSON, (1816.) 4* 82 Lyra Anglicana. JESU. >ESU is in my heart ; his sacred name Is deeply carved there. But, th* other week, A great affliction broke the little frame, Even all to pieces; which I went to seek. And first I found the corner where was 7; After, where ES; and next, where U was graved. When I had got these parcels, instantly I sat me down to spell them ; and perceived That, to my broken heart, he was I EASE YOU; And, to my whole^ is JESU. GEORGE HERBERT. Lyra Anglicana. 83 ECCE AGNUS DEI! EHOLD the Lamb ! Oh ! Thou for sinners slain, it not be in vain, That Thou hast died : Thee for my Saviour let me take, Thee, Thee alone my refuge make, Thy pierced side ! Behold the Lamb ! Archangels, fold your wings, Seraphs, hush all the strings Of million lyres : The Victim, veiled on earth, in love, Unveiled enthroned, adored above, All heaven admires ! Behold the Lamb ! Drop down, ye glorious skies, He dies, He dies, He dies, For man once lost ! Yet lo ! He lives, He lives, He lives,- And to His Church Himself He gives, Incarnate Host ! 84 Lyra Anglicana. Behold the Lamb ! All hail, Eternal Word ! Thou universal Lord, Purge out our leaven : Clothe us with godliness and good, Feed us with Thy celestial food, Manna from heaven! Behold the Lamb ! Saints, wrapt in blissful rest, Souls, waiting to be blest, O Lord, how long ! Thou church on earth, overwhelmed with fears, Still in this vale of woe and tears, Swell the full song. Behold the Lamb ! Worthy is He alone, To sit upon the throne Of God above ! One with the Ancient of all days, One with the Paraclete in praise, All light, all love ! EGERTON BRYDGES. Lyra Anglicana. 85 AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS. ENEATH my cross I lay me down, And mourn to see Thy bloody crown ; |Love drops in blood from every vein ; Love is the spring of all His pain. Here, Jesus, I shall ever stay, And spend my longing heart away, Think on Thy bleeding wounds and pain, And contemplate Thy woes again. The rage of Satan and of sin, Of foes without, and fears within, Shall ne'er my conquering soul remove Or from Thy Cross or from Thy love. Secured from harms beneath Thy shade, Here death and hell shall ne'er invade ; Nor Sinai, with its thundering noise, Shall e'er disturb my happier joys. 86 Lyra Anglicana. O unmolested happy rest ! Where inward fears are all supprest ; Here I shall love, and live secure, And patiently my cross endure. WILLIAM WILLIAMS, (1772.) Lyra Anglicana. 87 THT WILL, NOT MINE. " Father, if Thou be willing, remove this cup from Me : never- theless not My will, but Thine, be done." St. Luke xxii. 42. LORD my God, do Thou Thy holy will I will lie still I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm, And break the charm, Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast, In perfect rest. Wild Fancy, peace ! thou must not me beguile With thy false smile : I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways ; Be silent, Praise, Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all That hear thy call. Come Self-devotion, high and pure, Thoughts that in thankfulness endure, Though dearest hopes are faithless found, 88 Lyra Anglicana. And dearest hearts are bursting round. Come, Resignation, spirit meek, And let me kiss thy placid cheek, And read in thy pale eye serene Their blessing, who by faith can wean Their hearts from sense, and learn to love God only, and the joys above. They say, who know the life divine, And upward gaze with eagle eyne, That by each golden crown on high, Rich with celestial jewelry, Which for our Lord's Redeemed is set, There hangs a radiant coronet, All gemmed with pure and living light, Too dazzling for a sinner's sight, Prepared for virgin souls, and them Who seek the martyr's diadem. Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire, Must win their way through blood and fire. The writhings of a wounded heart Are fiercer than a foeman's dart., Oft in Life's stillest shades reclining, In Desolation unrepining, Without a hope on earth to find A mirror in an answering mind, Meek souls there are, who little dream, Lyra Anglicana. 89 Their daily strife an Angel's theme, Or that the rod they take so calm Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm. And there are souls that seem to dwell Above the earth, so rich a spell Floats round their steps, where'er they move, From hopes fulfilled and mutual love. Such, if on high their thoughts are set, Nor in the stream the source forget, If prompt to quit the bliss they know, Following the Lamb where'er He go, By purest pleasures unbeguiled To idolize or wife or child ; Such wedded souls our God shall own For faultless virgins round His throne. Thus everywhere we find our suffering God, And where He trod May set our steps : the Cross on Calvary Uplifted high Beams on the martyr host, a beacon light In open fight. To the still wrestlings of the lonely heart He doth impart The virtue of His midnight agony, Where none is nigh, go Lyra Anglicana. Save God and one good angel to assuage The tempest's rage. Mortal ! if life smile on thee, and thou find All to thy mind, Think, who did once from Heaven to Hell de- scend Thee to befriend : So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call, Thy best, thine all. " O Father ! not My will, but Thine be done" So speaks the Son. Be this our charm, mellowing Earth's ruder noise Of griefs and joys ; That we may cling forever to Thy breast In perfect rest. KEBLE. Lyra Anglicana. 91 TOUCHED WITH A FEELING OF OUR INFIRMITIES. HEN wounded sore, the stricken soul Lies bleeding and unbound, One only Hand, a pierced Hand, Can salve the sinner's wound. When sorrow swells the laden breast, And tears of anguish flow, One only Heart, a broken Heart, Can feel the sinner's woe. When penitence has wept in vain Over some foul dark spot, One only stream, a stream of blood, Can wash away the blot. 'Tis Jesus' blood that washes white, This Hand that brings relief, This Heart that's touched with all our joys, And feeleth for our grief. 92 Lyra Anglicana. Lift up Thy bleeding Hand, O Lord, Unseal that cleansing tide ; We have no shelter from our sin But in Thy wounded side. C. F. ALEXANDER. Lyra Anglicana. 93 HE WAS DESPISED AND REJECTED OF MEN. ( S it not strange, the darkest hour That ever dawned on sinful earth Should touch the heart with softer power For comfort, than an angel's mirth ? That to the Cross the mourner's eye should turn Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn ? Sooner than where the Easter sun Shines glorious on yon open grave, And to and fro the tidings run, "Who died to heal, is ris'n to save ?" Sooner than where upon the Saviour's friends The very Comforter in light and love descends ? Yet it is so: for duly there The bitter herbs of earth are set, Till tempered by the Saviour's prayer, And with the Saviour's life-blood wet, They turn to sweetness, and drop holy balm, Soft as imprisoned martyr's death-bed calm. 94 Lyra Anglicana. All turn to sweet but most of all, That bitterest to the lip of pride, When hopes presumptuous fade and fall, Or Friendship scorns us, duly tried, Or Love, the flower that closes up for fear When rude and selfish spirits breathe too near. Then like a long-forgotten strain Comes sweeping o'er the heart forlorn What sunshine hours had taught in vain Of JESUS suffering shame and scorn, As in all lowly hearts He suffers still, While we triumphant ride and have the world at will. His pierced hands in vain would hide His face from rude reproachful gaze, His ears are open to abide The wildest storm the tongue can raise, He who with one rough word, some early day, Their idol world and them shall sweep for aye away. But we by Fancy may assuage The festering sore by Fancy made, Down in some lonely hermitage Like wounded pilgrims safely laid, Where gentlest breezes whisper souls distressed, That Love yet lives, and Patience shall find rest. Lyra Anglicana. 95 O ! sname beyond the bitterest thought That evil spirits ever framed, That sinners know what Jesus wrought, Yet feel their haughty hearts untamed That souls in refuge, holding by the Cross, Would wince and fret at this world's little loss. Lord of my heart, by Thy last cry Let not Thy blood on earth be spent Lo, at Thy feet I fainting lie, Mine eyes upon Thy wounds are bent ; Upon Thy streaming wounds my weary eyes Wait like the parched earth on April skies. Wash me, and dry these bitter tears, O let my heart no further roam, 'Tis Thine by vows, and hopes, and fears, Long since O call Thy wanderer home; To that dear home, safe in Thy wounded side, Where only broken hearts their sin and shame may hide. KEBLE. 96 Lyra Anglicana. JESUS CRUCIFIED. Y Lord, my love was crucified, He all the pains did bear ; But in the sweetness of His rest He makes His servants share. How sweetly rest Thy saints above Which in Thy bosom lie ! The Church below doth rest in hope Of that felicity. Thou, Lord, who daily feed'st Thy sheep, Mak'st them a weekly feast ; Thy flocks meet in their several folds Upon this day of rest: Welcome and dear unto my soul Are these sweet feasts of love: But what a Sabbath shall I keep When I shall rest above ! I bless Thy wise and wondrous love, Which binds us to be free ; Which makes us leave our earthly snares, That we may come to Thee ! Lyra Anglicana. 97 I come, I wait, I hear, I pray ! Thy footsteps, Lord, I trace ! I sing to think this is the way Unto my Saviour's face! JOHN MASON, (1683.) 98 Lyra Anglicana. THE ENTOMBMENT. "And Joseph wrapped the body in a clean linen cloth, and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock." EST of the weary ! Thou Thyself art resting now, ? Where lowly in Thy sepulchre Thou liest : From out her deathly sleep My soul doth start to weep So sad a wonder, that Thou Saviour diest ! Thy bitter anguish o'er, To this dark tomb they bore Thee, Life of life, Thee, Lord of all creation ! The hollow rocky cave Must serve Thee for a grave, Who wast Thyself the Rock of our Salvation ! O Prince of Life ! I know That when I too lie low, Lyra Anglicana. 99 Thou wilt at last my soul from death awaken ; Wherefore I will not shrink From the grave's rueful brink ; The heart that trusts in Thee shall ne'er be shaken. To me the darksome tomb Is but a narrow room, Where I may rest in peace, from sorrow free. Thy death shall give me power To cry in that dark hour, O Death, O Grave, where is your victory ? The grave can nought destroy, Only the flesh can die, And e'en the body triumphs o'er decay j Cloth'd by Thy wondrous might In robes of dazzling light, The flesh shall burst the grave at the last Day. My Jesus, day by day, Help me to watch and pray, Beside the tomb where in my heart Thou'rt laid. Thy bitter death shall be My constant memory, My guide at last into Death's awful shade. CATHERINE WINKWORTH, "Zyr. Ger" ioo Lyra Anglicana. MORS CHRIST I. ND am I here, and my Redeemer gone ? Can He be dead, and is not my life done ? Was He tormented in excesse of measure, And doe I live yet ? and yet live in pleasure ? Alas ! could sinners find out ne'r a one More fit than Thee for them to spit upon ? Did Thy cheekes entertaine a traytor's lips ? Was Thy deare body scourg'd and torne with whips, So that the guiltlesse blood came trickling after ? And did Thy fainting browes sweat blood and water ? Wert Thou (Lord) hang'd upon the cursed tree ? O world of griefe ! and was this all for me ? Burst forth, my teares, into a world of sor- row, Lyra Anglicana, 101 And let my nights of griefe find ne'r a mor- row : Since Thou art dead (Lord) grant Thy servant room Within his heart to build Thy heart a tombe. FRANCIS QUARLES. 1O2 Lyra Anglicana. MT FLESH ALSO SHALL REST IN HOPE. "As for Thee also, by the blood of Thy covenant I have sent forth Thy prisoners out of the pit wherein is no water." 2kch. ix. ii. length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid Deep in Thy darksome bed ; All still and cold beneath yon dreary stone Thy sacred form is gone ; Around those lips where power and mercy hung The dews of death have clung ; The dull earth o'er Thee, and Thy foes around, Thou sleep'st a silent corse, in funeral fetters wound. Sleep'st Thou indeed ? or is Thy spirit fled, At large among the dead ? Whether in Eden bowers Thy welcome voice Wake Abraham to rejoice, Or in some drearier scene Thine eye controls The thronging band of souls ; Lyra Anglicana. 103 That, as Thy blood on earth, Thine agony Might set the shadowy realm from sin and sor- row free. Where'er Thou roam'st, one happy soul, we know Seen at Thy side in woe, Waits on Thy triumph even as all the blest With him and Thee shall rest. Each on his cross, by Thee we hang awhile, Watching Thy patient smile, 'Till we have learned to say, " Tis justly done Only in glory, Lord, Thy sinful servant own." Soon wilt Thou take us to Thy tranquil bower To rest one little hour, Till Thine elect are numbered, and the grave Call Thee to come and save : Then on Thy bosom borne shall we descend, Again with earth to blend, Earth all refined with bright supernal fires, Tinctured with holy blood, and winged with pure desires : Meanwhile, with every son and saint of Thine Along the glorious line, Sitting by turns beneath Thy sacred feet We'll hold communion sweet, 104 Lyra Anglicana. Know them by look and voice, and thank them all For helping us in thrall, For words of hope, and bright examples given To show through moonless skies that there is light in Heaven. O come that day, when in the restless heart Earth shall resign her part, When in the grave with Thee my limbs shall rest, My soul with Thee be blest ! But stay, presumptuous CHRIST with thee abides In the rock's dreary sides ; He from the stone will wring celestial dew If but the prisoner's heart be faithful found and true. When tears are spent, and thou art left alone With ghosts of blessings gone, Think thou art taken from the cross, and laid In JESUS' burial shade ; Take Moses' rod, the rod of prayer, and call Out of the rocky wall The fount of holy blood ; and life on high Thy grovelling soul that feels so desolate and dry. Lyra Anglicana. 105 Prisoner of Hope thou art look up and sing In hope of promised spring. As in the pit his father's darling lay Beside the desert way, And knew not how, but knew his GOD would save Even from that living grave, So buried with our LORD, will close our eyes To the decaying world, till angels bid us rise. KEBLE. 5* io6 Lyra Anglicana. HE GI7ETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP. i. F all the thoughts of God, that are Borne inward unto souls afar, Along the Psalmist's music deep- Now tell me if that any is, For gift of grace surpassing this " He giveth His beloved sleep " ? His dews drop mutely on the hill His cloud above it saileth still Though on its slope men toil and reap ; More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, " He giveth His beloved sleep." And friends, dear friends ! when shall it be, That this low breath is gone from me When round my bier ye come to weep ; Lyra Anglicana. 107 Let one, most loving of you all, Say " Not a tear must o'er her fall, " He giveth His beloved sleep." n. What would we give to our beloved ? The hero's heart to be unmoved The poet's star-tuned harp to sweep The senate's shout to patriot vows The monarch's crown to light the brows ? " He giveth His beloved sleep." " Sleep soft, beloved ! " we sometimes say, But have no power to charm away Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep ; But never doleful dream again Shall break their happy slumber, when " He giveth His beloved sleep." O earth, so full of dreary noise ! O men, with wailing in your voice ! O delved gold, the wailer's heap ! O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall ! God makes a silence through you all, And giveth his beloved sleep ! io8 Lyra Anglicana. Yea ! men may wonder while they scan A living, thinking, feeling man In such a rest his heart to keep ! But angels say and through the word, I ween, their blessed smile is heard " He giveth His beloved sleep." ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. Lyra Anglicana. 109 THE FOE BEHIND, THE DEEP BE- FORE. | HE foe behind, the deep before, Our hosts have dared and past the sea; And Pharaoh's warriors strew the shore, And Israel's ransomed tribes are free. Lift up, lift up your voices now ! The whole wide world rejoices now ! The Lord hath triumphed gloriously ! The Lord shall reign victoriously ! Happy morrow Turning sorrow Into peace and mirth ! Bondage ending, Love descending, O'er the earth ! Souls assuring, Guards securing, Watch His earthly prison : Seals are shattered, Guards are scattered, Christ hath risen ! no Lyra Anglicana. No longer must the mourners weep, Nor call departed Christians dead ; For death is hallowed into sleep, And every grave becomes a bed. Now once more, Eden's door Open stands to mortal eyes ; For Christ hath risen, and men shall rise : Now at last, Old things past, Hope and joy and peace begin ; For Christ hath won, and man shall win. It is not exile, rest on high : It is not sadness, peace from strife : To fall asleep is not to die ; To dwell with Christ is better life. Where our banner leads us, We may safely go : Where our Chief precedes us, We may face the foe. His right arm is o'er us, He will guide us through ; Christ hath gone before us ; Christians ! follow you ! JOHN MASON NEALE, (1851.) Lyra Anglicana. 1 1 1 EASTER DAY. PATHWAY opens from the tomb, The grave's a grave no more ! Stoop down; look into that sweet room; Pass through the unseal'd door : Linger a moment by the bed, Where lay but yesterday the Church's Head. What is there there to make thee fear ? A folded chamber-vest, Akin to that which thou shalt wear, When for thy slumber drest ; Two gentle angels sitting by How sweet a room, methinks, wherein to lie ! No gloomy vault, no charnel cell, No emblem of decay, No solemn sound of passing bell, To say, cc He's gone away ; " But angel-whispers soft and clear, And He, the risen Jesus, standing near. 112 Lyra Anglicana. " Why weepest thou ? Whom seekest thou ?" 'Tis not the gardener's voice, But His to whom all knees shall bow, In whom all hearts rejoice ; The voice of Him who yesterday, Within that rock was Death's resistless prey. " Why weepest thou ? whom seekest thou ? The living with the dead ? " Take young spring flowers and deck thy brow, For life with joy is wed : The grave is now the grave no more ; Why fear to pass that bridal-chamber door ? Take flowers and strew them all around The room where Jesus lay : But softly tread ; 'tis hallowed ground, And this is Easter-day. " The Lord is risen," as He said, And thou shalt rise with Him, thy risen Head. Lyra Anglicana. 1 13 RESURRECTION. "And when the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not. And He came and touched the bier ; and they that bare him stood still. And He said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise. St. Luke, vii. 13, 14. HO says the wan autumnal sun Beams with too faint a smile To light up nature's face again, And, though the year be on the wane, With thoughts of spring the heart beguile ? Waft him, thou soft September breeze, And gently lay him down Within some circling woodland wall, Where bright leaves reddening ere they fall, Wave gaily o'er the waters brown. And let some graceful arch be there With wreathed mullions proud, 114 Lyra Anglicana. With burnished ivy for its screen, And moss, that glows as fresh and green As though beneath an April cloud. Who says the widow's heart must break, The childless mother sink? A kinder, truer voice I hear, Which even beside that mournful bier Whence parent's eyes would hopeless shrink, Bids weep no more O heart bereft, How strange, to thee, that sound ! A widow o'er her only son, Feeling more bitterly alone For friends that press officious round. Yet is the voice of comfort heard, For Christ has touched the bier The bearers wait with wondering eye, The swelling bosom dares not sigh, But all is still, 'twixt hope and fear. Even such an awful soothing calm We sometimes see alight On Christian mourners, while they wait In silence, by some church-yard gate, Their summons to the holy rite. Lyra Anglicana. .And such the tones of love, which break The stillness of that hour, Quelling th' embittered spirit's strife "The Resurrection and the Life "Am I: believe, and die no more." Unchanged that voice and though not yet The dead sit up and speak, Answering its call ; we gladlier rest Our darlings on earth's quiet breast, And our hearts feel they must not break. Far better they should sleep awhile Within the church's shade, Nor wake, until new heaven, new earth, Meet for their young immortal birth For their abiding place be made, Than wander back to life, and lean On our frail love once more. 'Tis sweet, as year by year we lose Friends out of sight, in faith to muse How grows in Paradise our store. Then pass, ye mourners, cheerly on, Through prayer unto the tomb, 1 1 6 Lyra Anglicana. Still, as ye watch life's falling leaf, Gathering from every loss and grief Hope of new spring and endless home. Then cheerly to your work again With hearts new-braced and set To run, untired, love's blessed race, As meet for those, who face to face Over the grave their Lord have met. KEBLE. Lyra Anglicana. 117 DEAR SAVIOUR OF A DYING WORLD. EAR Saviour of a dying world, Where grief and change must be, In the new grave where Thou wast laid, My heart lies down with Thee, Oh, not in cold despair of joy, Or weariness of pain, But from a hope that shall not die, To rise and live again. I would arise in all Thy strength Thy place on earth to fill, To work out all my time of war With love's unflinching will ; Firm against every doubt of Thee For all my future way To walk in Heaven's eternal light Throughout the changing day. Ah, such a day as Thou shalt own When suns have ceased to shine ! n8 Lyra Anglicana. A day of burdens borne by Thee, And work that all was Thine. Speed Thy bright rising in my heart, Thy righteous kingdom speed, Till my whole life in concord say, " The Lord is risen indeed." Oh for an impulse from Thy love With every coming breath, To sing that sweet undying song Amid the wrecks of death ! A "hail !" to every mortal pang That bids me take my right To glory in the blessed life Which Thou hast brought to light. I long to see the hallowed earth In new creation rise, To find the germs of Eden hid Where its fallen beauty lies, To feel the spring-tide of a soul By one deep love set free ; Made meet to lay aside her dust, And be at home with Thee. And then there shall be yet an end- An end now full to bless ! Lyra Anglicana. 119 How dear to those who watch for Thee With human tenderness ! Then shall the saying come to pass That makes our home complete, And, rising from the conquered grave, Thy parted ones shall meet. Yes they shall meet, and face to face By heart to heart be known, Clothed with Thy likeness, Lord of life, And perfect in their own. For this corruptible must rise, From its corruption free, And this frail mortal must put on Thine immortality. Shine, then, Thou Resurrection Light, Upon our sorrows shine ; The fulness of Thy joys be ours, As all our griefs were Thine. Now, in this changing, dying life Our faded hopes restore, Till, in Thy triumph perfected, We taste of death no more. A. L. WARING. 12O Lyra Anglicana. EA STER. ISE, heart ! thy Lord is risen. Sing His praise Without delays, Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise With Him mayst rise ; That as thy death calcined thee to dust, His life may make thee gold; and, much more, just. Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part With all thy art. The cross taught all wood to resound his name, Who bore the same. His stretched sinews taught all strings what key Is best to celebrate this most high day. Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song Pleasant and long : Or, since all music is but three parts vied, And multiplied ; Lyra Anglicana. 121 O let thy blessed spirit bear a part, And make up our defects with His sweet art. I got me flowers to strew thy way; I got me boughs of many a tree ; But thou wast up by break of day, And brought'st thy sweets along with thee. The sunne arising in the East, Though he give light, and th' East perfume ; If they should offer to contest With thy arising, they presume. Can there be any day but this, Though many sunnes to shine endeavour ? We count three hundred but we miss ; There is but one, and that one, ever. GEORGE HERBERT. 122 Lyra Anglicana. A SSURANCES. " Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto His glorious body, according to the working whereby He is able even to subdue all things unto Himself." Philippians, iii. 21 ED o'er the forest peers the setting sun, The line of yellow light dies fast away That crowned the eastern copse : and chill and dun Falls on the moor the brief November day. Now the tired hunter winds a parting note, And echo bids good-night from every glade ; Yet wait awhile and see the calm leaves float Each to his rest beneath their parent shade. How like decaying life they seem to glide ! And yet no second spring have they in store, But where they fall, forgotten to abide Is all their portion and they ask no more. Lyra Anglicana. 1 23 Soon o'er their heads blithe April airs shall sing, A thousand wild-flowers round them shall unfold, The green buds glisten in the dews of spring, And all the vernal rapture as of old. Unconscious they in waste oblivion lie, In all the world of busy life around No thought of them ; in all the bounteous sky No drop, for them, of kindly influence found. Man's portion is to die and rise again Yet he complains, while these unmurmuring part With their sweet lives, as pure from sin and stain As his when Eden held his virgin heart. And haply half unblamed his murmuring voice Might sound in Heaven, were all his second life Only the first renewed the heathen's choice, A round of listless joys and weary strife. For dreary were this earth, if earth were all, Though brightened oft by dear Affection's kiss ; Who for the spangles wears the funeral pall ? But catch a gleam beyond if, and 'tis bliss. 124 ^F a Anglicana. Heavy and dull this frame of limbs and heart, Whether slow creeping on cold earth, or borne On lofty steed, or loftier prow, we dart O'er wave or field j. yet breezes laugh to scorn Our puny speed, and birds, and clouds in heaven, And fish, like living shafts that pierce the main, And stars that shoot through freezing air at even Who but would follow could he break his chain ? And thou shalt break it soon ; the grovelling worm Shall find his wings, and soon as fast and free As his transfigured Lord with lightning form And snowy vest such grace He won for thee, When from the grave He sprung at dawn of morn, And led through boundless air thy conquer- ing road, Leaving a glorious track, where saints, new- born, Might fearless follow to their blest abode. Lyra Anglicana. 125 But first, by many a stern and fiery blast The world's rude furnace must thy blood refine, And many a gale of keenest woe be passed, Till every pulse beat true to airs divine, Till every limb obey the mounting soul, The mounting souls, the call by Jesus given- He who the stormy heart can so control, The laggard body soon will waft to Heaven. KEBLE. 126 Lyra Anglicana. ASCENDED INTO HEAVEN. ISE glorious Conqueror, rise, Into Thy native skies, Assume Thy right : And where in many a fold The clouds are backward rolled Pass through the gates of gold, And reign in light ! Victor o'er death and hell ! Cherubic legions swell The radiant train : Praises all heaven inspire; Each angel sweeps his lyre And waves his wings of fire, Thou Lamb once slain ! Enter, Incarnate God ! No feet, but Thine, have trod The serpent down : Blow the full trumpets, blow ' Lyra Anglicana. 127 Wider your portals throw ! Saviour triumphant go, And take Thy crown ! Yet who are these behind, In numbers more than mind Can count or say Clothed in immortal stoles, Illumining the poles A galaxy of souls, In white array ? And then was heard afar Star answering to star Lo ! these have come, Followers of Him, who gave His life, their lives to save ; And now their palms they wave Brought safely home. Oh Lord ! ascend Thy throne ! For Thou shalt rule alone Beside Thy Sire, With the great Paraclete, The Three in One complete Before whose awful feet All foes expire ! EGERTON BRYDGES. 128 Lyra Anglicana. LIFT UP TOUR HEARTS. OY of my life while left me here ! And still my love ! How in Thy absence Thou dost steere Me from above ! A life well led This truth commends, With quick or dead It never ends. Stars are of mighty use : the night Is dark and long ; The road foul ; and where one goes right, Six may go wrong. One twinkling ray, Shot o'er some cloud, May clear each way And guide a crowd. God's saints are shining lights : who stays Here long must passe Lyra Anglicana. 129 O'er dark hills, swift streams, and steep ways As smooth as glasse; But these all night, Like Candles, shed Their beams, and light Us into Bed. They are indeed our Pillar-fires, Seen as we go ; They are the Citie's shining spires We travell to. A sword-like gleame Kept man from sin First Out ; this beame Will guide him In. HENRY VAUGHN. 6* 130 Lyra Anglicana. THE S4 HOUR'S GOING, GAIN. (t Nevertheless I tell you the truth j it is expedient for you that I go away; for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you : but if I depart, I will send Him unto you." St. Johriy xvi. 7. Y Saviour can it ever be That I should gain by losing Thee? >The watchful mother tarries nigh, Though sleep have closed her infant's eye ; P*or should he wake and find her gone, She knows she could not bear his moan. But I am weaker than a child, And Thou art more than mother dear ; Without Thee Heaven were but a wild : How can I live without Thee here ! ' 'Tis good for you, that I should go, u You lingering yet awhile below ; " 'Tis Thine own gracious promise, Lord ! Thy saints have proved the faithful word, Lyra Anglicana. 131 When Heaven's bright boundless avenue Far opened on their eager view, And homeward to Thy Father's throne, Still lessening, brightening on their sight, Thy shadowy car went soaring on ; They tracked Thee up th' abyss of light, Thou bidd'st rejoice ; they dare not mourn, But to their home in gladness turn, Their home and God's, that favoured place, Where still He shines on Abraham's race, In prayers and blessings there to wait Like suppliants at their Monarch's gate, Who bent with bounty rare to aid The splendors of His crowning day, Keeps back awhile His largess, made More welcome for that brief delay : In doubt they wait, but not unblest ; . They doubt not of their Master's rest, Nor of the gracious will of Heaven Who gave His Son, sure all was given But in ecstatic awe they muse What course the genial stream may choose, And far and wide their fancies rove, And to their height of wonder strain, What secret miracle of love Should make their Saviour's going gain. 132 Lyra Anglicana. The days of hope and prayer are past, The day of comfort dawns at last, The everlasting gates again Roll back, and lo ! a royal train From the far depth of light once more The floods of glory earthward pour ; They part like shower-drops in mid air, But ne'er so soft fell noontide shower, Nor evening rainbow gleamed so fair To weary swains in parched bower. Swiftly and straight each tongue of flame Through cloud and breeze unwavering came, And darted to its place of rest On some meek brow of Jesus blest. Nor fades it yet, that living gleam, And still those lambent lightnings stream ; Where'er the Lord is, there are they ; In every heart that gives them room, They light His altar every day, Zeal to inflame and vice consume. Soft as the plumes of Jesus' dove They nurse the soul to heavenly love : The struggling spark of good within, Just smothered in the strife of sin, They quicken to a timely glow, The pure flame spreading high and low. Lyra Anglicana. 133 Said I, that prayer and hope are o'er? Nay, blessed Spirit ! but by Thee The Church's prayer finds wings to soar, The Church's hope finds eyes to see. Then fainting soul arise and sing ; Mount, but be sober on the wing ; Mount up, for Heaven is won by prayer, Be sober for thou art not there ; Till death the weary spirit free, Thy God hath said, 'Tis good for thee To walk by faith and not by sight : Take it on trust a little while ; Soon shalt thou read the mystery right In the full sunshine of His smile. Or if thou yet more knowledge crave, As thine own heart, that willing slave To all that works thee woe or harm : Should'st thou not need some mighty charm To win thee to thy Saviour's side, Though He had deigned with thee to bide ? The Spirit must stir the darkling deep, The Dove must settle on the Cross, Else we should all sin on or sleep With Christ in sight, turning our gain to loss. KEBLE. 134 Lyra Anglicana. THE LORD REIGNETH: LET THE EARTH REJOICE. ORD God of might, in reverence lowly The hosts of heaven call Thee Holy ; From cherubim and seraphim 'And angel phalanx far extending, In fuller tones is still ascending The Holy, Holy of their hymn. The fount of joy Thou art, That filleth every heart Ever, ever! We too are Thine, and with them sing, " Thou, Lord, and only Thou, art King." Lord, there are bending now before Thee The elders, with their crowned glory, The first-born of the blessed band; There too earth's ransomed and forgiven, Brought by the Saviour safe to heaven, In glad unnumbered myriads stand. Loud are the songs of praise Their mingled voices raise Ever, ever ! Lyra Anglicana. 135 We too are Thine, and with them sing, "Thou, Lord, and only Thou, art King." They sing in sweet and sinless numbers The wondrous love that never slumbers, And all the wisdom, power, and might, The truth and faithfulness abiding, And over all Thy works presiding ; But they can scarcely praise aright : For all is never sung Even by seraph's tongue, Never, never! We too are Thine, and with them sing, " Thou, Lord, and only Thou, art King." O come reveal Thyself more fully, That we may learn to praise Thee truly ; Make every heart a temple true, Filled with Thy glory overflowing, More of Thy love each morning showing, And waking praises loud and new: Here let Thy peace divine Upon Thy children shine Ever, ever ! That, glad or sad, we still may sing, " Thou, Lord, and only Thou, art King." 136 Lyra Anglicana. THE GLORT OF GOD DID LIGHTEN IT. EAD of the Hosts in glory ! We joyfully adore Thee, Thy church on earth below, Blending with those on high, Where through the azure sky Thy saints in ecstacy, For ever glow ! Armies of God ! in union With us, through one communion, Pour forth sweet prayers : Our souls in love's embrace, Around the Saviour's face, And ask His special grace To soothe our cares. Holy Apostles ! beaming With radiance brightly streaming From diadems of power ; Lyra Anglicana. 137 Call on the awful name, That we, through flood and flame The gospel may proclaim In every hour ! Martyrs ! whose mystic legions March o'er yon heavenly regions In triumph round and round ; Wave wave your banners wave ! Your God our Saviour, clave For death itself a grave, In hell profound ! Saints in fair circles, casting Rich trophies everlasting At Jesu's pierced feet, Amidst our rude alarms, Stretch forth your conquering arms, That we too, safe from harms, In Heaven may meet ! Angels Archangels ! glorious Guards of the Church victorious ! Worship the Lamb ! Crown Him with crowns of light, One of the Three by right, Love, Majesty, and Might, The Great I AM. EGERTON BRYDGES. 138 Lyra Anglicana. GO WORSHIP A TIMMANUEL'S FEET. O, worship at ImmanuePs feet ; See in His face what wonders meet; Earth is too narrow to express His worth, His glory, or His grace ! The whole creation can afford But some faint shadow of my Lord ; Nature, to make His beauties known, Must mingle colours not her own. Is He compared to Wine or Bread ? Dear Lord, our souls would that be fed : That Flesh, that dying Blood of Thine, Is Bread of Life, is heavenly Wine. Is He a Tree ? the world receives Salvation from His healing leaves ; That righteous Branch, that fruitful bough, Is David's root, and offspring too. Lyra Anglicana. 139 Is He a Rose ? not Sharon yields Such fragrancy in all her fields ; Or if the Lily He assume, The valleys bless the rich perfume. Is He a Vine ? His heavenly root Supplies the boughs with life and fruit ; O let a lasting union join My soul the branch to Christ the Vine ! Is He the Head ? Each member lives, And owns the vital power He gives; The Saints below and Saints above Joined by His Spirit and His love. Is He a Fountain ? There I bathe, And heal the plague of sin and death ; These waters all my soul renew, And dense my spotted garments too. Is He a Fire ? He'll purge my dross ; But the true gold sustains no loss : Like a Refiner shall He sit, And tread the refuse with His feet. Is He a Rock ? How firm He proves ! The Rock of Ages never moves: 140 Lyra Anglicana. Yet the sweet streams, that from Him flow, Attend us all the desert through. Is He a Way ? He leads to God ; The path is drawn in lines of Blood ; There would I walk with zealous will 'Till I arrive at Zion's hill. Is He a Door? I'll enter in ; Behold the pastures large and green! A paradise divinely fair; None but the sheep have freedom there. Is He designed a Corner Stone, For men to build their Heaven upon ? I'll make Him my Foundation too ; Nor fear the plots of Hell below. Is He a Temple ? I adore The indwelling majesty and power ; And still to His Most Holy Place, Whene'er I pray I turn my face. Is He a Star ? He breaks the night, Piercing the shades with dawning light; I know His glories from afar, I know the bright, the Morning Star ! Lyra Anglicana. 141 Is He a Sun ? His beams are grace, His course a joy, and Righteousness : Nations rejoice when He appears To chase their clouds and dry their tears. Oh ! let me climb those higher skies Where storms and darkness never rise ! There He displays His powers abroad, And shines and reigns th' Incarnate God. Nor earth, nor seas, nor sun, nor stars, Nor Heaven His full resemblance bears ; His beauties we can never trace, Till we behold Him face to face. ISAAC WATTS, (1709.) Lyra Anglicana. JES U REX ADMIRAEILIS. JESU ! King most wonderful ! Thou Conqueror renowned ! Thou Sweetness most ineffable ! In whom all joys are found ! When once Thou visitest the heart, Then truth begins to shine ; Then earthly vanities depart ; Then kindles love divine. O Jesu ! Light of all below ! Thou Fount of life and fire ! Surpassing all the joys we know, All that we can desire : May every heart confess Thy name And ever Thee adore ; And seeking Thee, itself inflame To seek Thee more and more. Lyra Anglicana. 143 Thee may our tongues for ever bless ; Thee may we love alone ; And ever in our lives express The image of Thine own. CASWALL. 144 ^7 Anglicana. JESU DULCIS MEMORIA ESU ! the very thought of Thee With sweetness fills my breast ; But sweeter far Thy face to see, And in Thy presence rest. Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame, Nor can the memory find, A sweeter sound than Thy blest name, O Saviour of mankind ! O hope of every contrite heart, O joy of all the meek, To those who fall, how kind Thou art ! How good to those who seek ! But what to those who find ? ah ! this Nor tongue nor pen can show : The love of Jesus, what it is, None but His loved ones know. Lyra Anglicana. Jesu ! our only joy be Thou, As Thou our prize will be ; Jesu ! be Thou our glory now, And through eternity. CASWALL 146 Lyra Anglicana. JESU DECUS ANGELICUM. JESU ! Thou the beauty art Of angel worlds above ; Thy name is music to the heart, Enchanting it with love. Celestial sweetness unalloyed ! Who eat Thee hunger still ; Who drink of Thee still feel a void, Which naught but Thou can fill. O my sweet Jesus ! hear the sighs Which unto Thee I send ; To Thee mine inmost spirit cries, My being's hope and end ! Stay with us, Lord, and with Thy light Illume the soul's abyss ; Scatter the darkness of our night, And fill the world with bliss. Lyra Anglicana. O Jesu ! spotless Virgin flower ! Our life and joy ! to Thee Be praise, beatitude, and power, Through all eternity. CASWALL. H7 148 Lyra Anglicana. CROWNED WITH GLORT AND HONOUR. O Him who for our sins was slain, To Him, for all His dying pain, Sing we Hallelujah ! To Him, the Lamb our sacrifice, Who gave His soul our ransom price, Sing we Hallelujah ! To Him that died that we might die To sin, and live with Him on high, Sing we Hallelujah ! To Him who rose that we might rise And reign with Him beyond the skies Sing we Hallelujah ! To Him who now for us doth plead, And helpeth us in all our need, Sing we Hallelujah ! To Him who doth prepare on high Our home in immortality Sing we Hallelujah ' Lyra Anglicana. 149 To Him be glory evermore ; Ye heavenly hosts, your Lord adore; Sing ye Hallelujah ! To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, One God most high, our joy and boast, Sing we Hallelujah ! 150 Lyra Anglicana. WHEN JESUS CAME TO EARTH OF OLD. HEN Jesus came to earth of old, He came in weakness and in woe; He wore no form of angel mould, But took our nature poor and low. But when He cometh back once more, There shall be set the Great White Throne, And earth and heaven shall flee before The face of Him that sits thereon. O Son of God, in glory crowned, The Judge ordained of quick and dead ; O Son of man, so pitying found For all the tears Thy people shed ; Be with us in this darkened place, This weary, restless, dangerous night ; Lyra Anglicana. 1 51 And teach, O teach us by Thy grace To struggle onward into light. And since in God's recording book Our sins are written every one, The crime, the wrath, the wandering look, The good we knew, and left undone ; Lord, ere the last dread trumpet sound, And ere before Thy face we stand, Look Thou on each accusing word, And blot it with Thy bleeding hand. And by the love that brought Thee here, And by the Cross and by the Grave, Give perfect love for conscious fear, And in the Day of Judgment save. And lead us on, while here we stay, And make us love our earthly home ; Till from our hearts we learn to say, " Even so Lord Jesus, quickly come." C. F. ALEXANDER. 152 Lyra Anglicana. WHILST THE CARELESS WORLD IS SLEEPING. HILST the careless world is sleeping, Blest the servants who are keep- ing Watch, according to His Word, For the coming of their Lord. At His table He will place them, With His royal banquet grace them, Banquet that shall never cloy ; Bread of life and wine of joy. Heard ye not your Master's warning ? He will come before the morning, Unexpected, undescried ; Watch ye for Him open-eyed. Teach us so to watch, Lord Jesus; From the sleep of sin release us : Swift to hear Thee let us be, Meet to enter in with Thee. Lyra Anglicana. God who with all good provides us, God who made, who saved, who guides us, Praise we with the heavenly host, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. 154 kyra Anglicana. HOLT AND REVEREND IS HIS NAME. OSANNA to the living Lord ! Hosanna to the incarnate Word, To Christ, Creator, Saviour, King, Let earth, let heaven, Hosanna sing, Hosanna, Lord, Hosanna in the highest ! O Saviour, with protecting care Return to this Thy house of Prayer: Where we Thy parting promise claim, Assembled in Thy sacred name : Hosanna, Lord, Hosanna in the highest ! But, chiefest, in our cleansed breast, Eternal, bid Thy Spirit rest, And make our secret soul to be A temple pure, and worthy Thee: Hosanna, Lord, Hosanna in the highest ! Lyra Anglicana. 155 So, in the last and dreadful day, When earth and heaven shall melt away, Thy flock, redeemed from sinful stain, Shall swell the sound of praise again : Hosanna, Lord, Hosanna in the highest ! 156 Lyra Anglicana. YE DO SHOW THE LORD'S DEATH UNTIL HE COME. Y Christ redeemed, in Christ restored, We keep the memory adored, And show the death of our dear Lord, Until He come ! His body broken in our stead, Is here, in this memorial bread ; And so our feeble love is fed, Until He come ! His fearful drops of agony, His life-blood shed for us we see ; The wine shall tell the mystery, Until He come ! And thus that dark betrayal-night, With the last Advent we unite ; The shame ! the glory ! by this Rite, Until He come ' Lyra Anglicana. 157 Until the trump of God be heard, Until the ancient graves be stirred, And with the great commanding word, The Lord shall come ! O blessed Hope ! with this elate Let not our hearts be desolate, But strong in faith, in patience wait, Until He come ! 158 Lyra Anglicana. THT KINGDOM COME. ORD ! come away [ Why dost Thou stay ? Thy road is ready; and Thy paths made straight With longing expectation wait The consecration of Thy beauteous feet ! Ride on triumphantly ! Behold, we lay Our lusts and proud wills in Thy way ! Hosanna ! Welcome to our hearts ! Lord, here Thou hast a temple too ; and full as dear As that of Sion, and as full of sin : Nothing but thieves and robbers dwell therein: Enter, and chase them forth, and cleanse the floor ! Crucify them, that they may never more Profane that holy place Where Thou hast chose to set Thy face ! And then, if our stiff tongues shall be Lyra Anglicana. 159 Mute in the praises of Thy Deity, The stones out of the temple wall Shall cry aloud, and call Hosanna ! and Thy glorious footsteps greet ! Amen. BISHOP JEREMY TAYLOR, (1655.) 160 Lyra Anglicana. WATCHING AND WAITING. "And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold, the Bridegroom cometh j go ye out to meet Him." Matt. xxv. AKE, ye holy maidens, fearing To slumber out your Lord's ap- pearing ; Hear ye the watchful herald's cry: Wake, Jerusalem, midnight tolleth ; Hark, how His chariot onward rolleth ! List, virgins rise, He draweth nigh: Rise up; with willing feet Go out, the Bridegroom meet ! Alleluia ! Bear through the night Your well-trimmed light ; Speed forth to join the marriage rite. Zion hears the herald's singing ; Her heart of hearts with joy is springing. She starteth up, she hastes away ! Lyra Anglicana. 161 Onward her Bridegroom cometh glorious, In grace arrayed, by truth victorious ; Her grief is joy, her night is day. Come, worthy Champion, O Christ, the Almighty Son : Hosanna ! We glide along In pomp of song, In haste to join the marriage throng. Hymns of praise to Thee be given, By men on earth and saints in heaven. With harp, and lute, and psaltery : Gates of pearl do guard Thy treasure, We stand before them keeping measure, In bursts of choral melody No vision ever bore, No ear hath heard before : Allelulia ! Yea, now will we With holy glee Renew this strain eternally. Amen. 162 Lyra Anglicana. DIES IRM, DIES ILLA AY of anger, that dread Day Shall the Sign in Heaven display, And the Earth in ashes lay. O what trembling shall appear, When His coming shall be near, Who shall all things strictly clear ! When the trumpet shall command Through the tombs of every land All before the Throne to stand ; Death shall shrink and nature quake, When all creatures shall awake, Answer to their God to make. See the Book divinely penn'd, In which all is found contained Whence the world shall be arraigned ! Lyra Anglicana. 163 When the Judge is on His Throne, All that's hidden shall be shown, Nought unpunished or unknown ! What shall I before Him say ? How shall I be safe that day, When the righteous scarcely may ? King of awful majesty, Saving sinners graciously, Fount of mercy, save Thou me ! Leave me not my Saviour, one For whose soul Thy course was run, Lest I be that day undone. Thou didst toil my soul to gain, Didst redeem me with Thy pain; Be such labour not in vain ! Thou just Judge of wrath severe, Grant my sins remission here, Ere Thy reckoning day appear. My transgressions grevious are ; Scarce look up for shame I dare; Lord, Thy guilty suppliant spare ! 164 Lyra Anglicana. Thou didst heal the sinner's grief, And didst hear the dying thief: Even I may hope relief. All unworthy is my prayer; Make my soul Thy mercy's care, And from fire eternal spare. Place me with Thy sheep, that band Who shall separated stand From the goats, at Thy right hand ! When Thy voice in wrath shall say, Cursed one, depart away ! Call me with the blest, I pray ! Lord Thine ear in mercy bow ! Broken is my heart and low: Guard of my last end be Thou ! In that day, that mournful day, When to judgment wakes our clay, Show me mercy, Lord, I pray ! HENRY ALFORD, (1845.) Lyra Anglicana. 165 THE DAY OF HIS COMING. HEN God of old came down from Heaven, In power and wrath He came ; Before His feet the clouds were riven, Half darkness and half flame. Around the trembling mountain's base The prostrate people lay; A day of wrath and not of grace; A dim and dreadful day. But when He came the second time, He came in power and love ; Softer than gale at morning prime, Hovered His holy Dove. The fires that rushed on Sinai down In sudden torrents dread, Now gently light, a glorious crown, On every sainted head. 166 Lyra Anglicana. Like arrows went those lightnings forth, Winged with the sinner's doom: But these, like tongues, o'er all the earth, Proclaiming life to come. And as on Israel's awe-struck ear The voice exceeding loud, The trump, that angels quake to hear, Thrilled from the deep dark cloud ; So when the spirit of our God Came down, His flock to find, A voice from heaven was heard abroad, A rushing mighty wind. Nor doth the outward ear alone At that high warning start ; Conscience gives back th' appalling tone ; 'Tis echoed from the heart. It fills the Church of God, it fills The sinful world around ; Only in stubborn hearts and wills No place for it is found. To other strains our souls are set ; A giddy whirl of sin Lyra Anglicana. 167 Fills ear and brain, and will not let Heaven's harmonies come in. Come Lord, come Wisdom, Love, and Power ; Open our ears to hear ; Let us not miss the accepted hour ; Save, Lord, by love or fear ! JOHN KEBLE, (1827.) 168 Lyra Anglicana. IN THE CLOUDS OF HEAVEN. O ! He comes with clouds descending, Once for favor' d sinners slain ; Thousand thousand saints attend- ing, Swell the triumph of His train : Alleluia! Alleluia! Jesus Christ shall ever reign ! See the universe in motion, Sinking in her funeral pyre, Earth dissolving, and the ocean Vanishing in final fire : Hark, the trumpet ! Hark the trumpet ! Loud proclaims the Day of Ire ! Graves have yawned in countless numbers, From the dust the dead arise : Millions, out of silent slumbers, Wake in overwhelmed surprise ; Lyra Anglicana. 169 Where creation, where creation, Wrecked and torn in ruin lies ! See the Judge our nature wearing, Pure, ineffable, divine; See the great Archangel bearing High in Heaven the mystic sign : Cross of Glory ! Cross of Glory ! Christ be in that moment mine 1 Every eye shall then behold Him Robed in awful majesty: Those that set at nought, and sold Him, Pierced and nailed Him to a tree, Deeply wailing, Deeply wailing, Shall the true Messiah see ' Lo ! the last long separation ! As the clearing clouds divide ; And one dread adjudication Sends each soul to either side ! Lord of mercy ! Lord of mercy ! How shall I that day abide ! Oh ! may Thine own Bride and Spirit Then avert a dreadful doom, And we summon to inherit An eternal blissful home ; 8 170 Lyra Anglicana. Ah ! come quickly ! Ah ! come quickly, Let Thy second Advent come ! Yea, Amen ! Let all adore Thee On Thine amaranthine throne ! Saviour ! take the power and glory, Claim the kingdom for thine own ! Men and angels : Men and angels, Kneel and bow to Thee alone ! EGERTON BRYDGES. Lyra Anglicana. 171 WHO IS THIS THAT COMETH LEAN- ING ON HER BELOVED? JOURNEY through a desert drear and wild, Yet is my heart by such sweet thoughts beguiled Of Him on whom I lean, my strength, my stay, That I forget the sorrows of the way. Thoughts of His love, the root of every grace Which finds in this poor heart a dwelling place, The sunshine of my soul, than day more bright, And my calm pillow of repose by night. Thoughts of His sojourn in this vale of tears : The tale of love unfolded in those years, Of sinless suffering and patient grace, I love again and yet again to trace. Thoughts of His glory : on the Cross I gaze, And there behold its sad yet healing rays ; 172 Lyra Anglicana. Beacon of hope, which lifted up on high Illumed with heavenly light the tear-dimmed eye. Thoughts of His coming : for that joyful day In patient hope I watch and wait and pray ; The dawn draws nigh, the midnight shadows flee; O what a sunrise will that advent be ! Thus while I journey on my Lord to meet, My thoughts and meditations are so sweet Of Him on whom I lean, my strength, my stay, That I forget the sorrows of the way. Lyra Anglicana. 173 STRENGTHENED WITH MIGHT ET HIS SPIRIT IN THE INNER MAN. OME to our poor nature's might, With Thy blessed inward light, ,Holy Ghost the Infinite. Comforter divine: We are sinful ; cleanse us, Lord ; Sick and faint ; Thy strength afford : Lost, until by Thee restored, Comforter divine. Orphan are our souls, and poor ; Give us from Thy heavenly store Faith, love, joy, for evermore, Comforter divine : Like the dew, Thy peace distil; Guide, subdue our wayward will, Things of Christ unfolding still. Comforter divine. 174 Lyra Anglicana. Gentle, awful, holy Guest, Make Thy temple in each breast Shrine of purity confessed, Comforter divine : In us, for us, intercede, And with voiceless groanings plead Our unutterable need, Comforter divine. In us, "Abba, Father," cry, Earnest of our bliss on high, Seal of immortality, Comforter divine: Search for us the depths of God 5 Bear us up the starry road To the height of Thine abode, Comforter divine. Lyra Anglicana. 175 THROUGH HIM WE HAVE ACCESS ET ONE SPIRIT UNTO THE FATHER. OLY Spirit, given For our guide to heaven, Sent by love divine ; With Thy peace consoling, Every ill controlling, On our darkness shine ! Faith and hope and love increasing, Fill our hearts with joy unceasing. Lord, of life the Giver, Dwell with us forever: Heavenly life inspire : All within renewing, With Thy grace enduing Heart, mind, thought, desire ! Fount of life forever flowing, Grace and peace on us bestowing. Fill our meditation With Thine inspiration : 176 Lyra Anglicana. Graft us in Thy word : So may we possessing Thine all-fruitful blessing, Glorify our Lord, Follow Him with faith unfeigned, Till we have His rest attained. Only through His merit We Thine aid inherit : In His Name we plead: Never let us grieve Thee, But with joy receive Thee, Fulness of our need: In our wealth, and in affliction, Crown us with Thy benediction. Amen. Lyra Anglicana. 177 IT IS THE SPIRIT THAT QUICK- ENETH. OLY Spirit, Lord of Light, From Thy clear celestial height Thy pure beaming radiance give : Come, Thou Father of the poor, Come, with treasures that endure, Come, Thou Light of all that live. Thou, of all consolers best, Visiting the troubled breast, Dost refreshing peace bestow ; Thou in toil and comfort sweet, Cooling breath in noontide heat, Solace in the hour of woe. Light most blissful, Light divine, Visit Thou these hearts of Thine, And our inmost being fill ! If Thou take Thy grace away, Nothing pure in man will stay ; All his good is turned to ill. 8* 178 Lyra Anglicana. Heal our wounds j our strength renew 5 On our dryness pour Thy dew ; Wash the stains of guilt away ; Bend the stubborn heart and will ; Kindle what is cold and chill j Guide the steps that go astray. Thou, on all who evermore Thee confess and Thee adore, In Thy seven-fold gifts descend : Give them comfort when they die ; Give them their reward on high ; Give them joys which never end. Amen, Lyra Anglicana. 179 THOU WHOSE ALMIGHTY WORD, HOU Whose almighty word Chaos and darkness heard, And took their flight ! Hear us we humbly pray, And where the Gospel day Sheds not its glorious ray, Let there be Light ! Thou Who didst come to bring On Thy redeeming wing Healing and light, Health to the sick in mind, Sight to the inly blind, O, now to all mankind, Let there be Light. Spirit of truth and love, Life-giving, holy Dove, Speed forth Thy flight ! Move on the water's face, 180 Lyra Anglicana. Spreading the beams of grace, And in earth's darkest place Let there be Light ! Blessed and holy Three, Glorious Trinity, Wisdom, Love, Might ! Boundless as ocean's tide, Rolling in fullest pride, Through the world, far and wide, Let there be Light ! JOHN MARRIOTT. Lyra Anglicana. 181 WALK IN THE LIGHT. ALK in the light, and thou shalt know That fellowship of love His spirit only can bestow, Who reigns in light above. Walk in the light, and sin abhorred Shall ne'er defile again ; The blood of Jesus Christ the Lord Shall cleanse from every stain. Walk in the light and thou shalt find Thy heart made truly His Who dwells in cloudless light enshrined ; With whom no darkness is. Walk in the light, and thou shalt own Thy mists have passed away, Because in thee that light hath shone Which grows to perfect day. Walk in the light, and e'en the tomb No fearful shade shall mar j 182 Lyra Anglicana. Glory shall chase away its gloom, For Christ hath conquered there. Walk in the light, and there shall be A path, if thorny, bright ; For God by grace shall dwell in thee, And God Himself is light. BERNARD BARTON, Lyra Anglicana. 183 VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS. OLY Spirit, gently come, Raise us from our fallen state, Fix Thy everlasting home In the hearts Thou didst create, Gift of God most High ! Visit every troubled breast : Light and life and love supply ; Give our spirits perfect rest. Heavenly unction from above, Comforter of weary saints, Fountain, Life, and Fire of Love, Hear and answer our complaints ! Thee we humbly pray, Finger of the Living God, Now Thy seven-fold grace display, Shed our Saviour's love abroad ! Now Thy quickening influence bring, On our spirits sweetly move; 184 Lyra Anglicana. Open every mouth to sing Jesus' everlasting love ! Lighten every heart ; Drive our enemies away ; Joy and peace to us impart : Lead us in the heavenly way ! Take the things of Christ and show What our Lord for us hath done ; May we God the Father know Only in and through the Son ; Nothing will we fear, Though to wilds and deserts driven, While we feel Thy presence near, Witnessing our sins forgiven. Glory be to God alone, God whose hand created all ! Glory be to God the Son, Who redeem'd us from our fall ! To the Holy Ghost Equal praise and glory be, When the course of time is lost, Lost in wide eternity ! WILLIAM HAMMOND, (1745.) Lyra Anglicana. 185 SWEET IS THE SPIRITS STRAIN. WEET is the Spirit's strain; Breathed by soft pleadings inly heard, By all the heart's deep fountains stirred, By conscience, and the written Word ; Come, wanderers, home again ! The Bride repeats the call ; By high thanksgiving, lowly prayer, By days of rest, and fostering care, By holy rites, that all may share ; She whispers, Come ! to all. Let him who hears say, Come ! If thou hast been sin's wretched slave ; If thou art risen from that grave ; Thy sleeping brethren seek to save, And call the wanderers home. i86 Lyra Anglicana. And let all come, who thirst ! Freely for every child of woe The streams of living waters flow ; And whosoever will may go Where healing fountains burst. There drink and be at rest; On Him who died for thee believe ; The Spirit's quickening grace receive ; No more the God who seeks thee grieve ; Be holy and be blest ! JOSEPH ANSTICE, (1836.) Lyra Anglicana. 187 HE HA TH NO T LEFT HIMSELF WITH- OUT WITNESS. HERE is a book, who runs may read, Which heavenly truth imparts ; And all the lore its scholars need, Pure eyes and Christian hearts. The works of God, above, below, Within us and around, Are pages in that book, to show How God Himself is found. The glorious sky embracing all, Is like the Maker's love, Wherewith encompassed, great and small In peace and order move. The moon above, the Church below, A wondrous race they run ; But all their radiance, all their glow, Each borrows of its sun. i88 Lyra Anglicana. The Saviour lends the light and heat That crowns His holy will ; The saints, like stars, around His seat Perform their courses still. The saints above are stars in Heaven; What are the saints on earth ? Like trees they stand, whom God has given, Our Eden's happy birth. Faith is their fix'd unswerving root, Hope their unfading flower ; Fair deeds of charity their fruit, The glory of their bower. The dew of Heaven is like Thy grace ; It steals in silence down ; But, where it lights, the favoured place By richest fruits is known. One name, above all glorious names, With its ten thousand tongues The everlasting sea proclaims, Echoing angelic songs. The raging fire, the roaring wind, The boundless power display : Lyra Anglicana. ij But in the gentler breeze we find Thy spirit's viewless way. Two worlds are ours ; 'tis only sin Forbids us to descry, The mystic heaven and earth within, Plain as the sea and sky. Thou who hast given us eyes to see And love this sight so fair, Give us a heart to find out Thee, And read Thee everywhere. KEBLE, (1827.) 190 Lyra Anglicana. THE KINGDOM OF GOD. SAY to thee, do thou repeat To the first man thou mayest meet In lane, highway, or open street That he, and we, and all men, move Under a canopy of love, As broad as the blue sky above : That doubt and trouble, fear and pain And anguish, all are shadows vain ; That death itself shall not remain : That weary deserts we may tread, A dreary labyrinth may thread, Through dark ways underground be led Yet, if we will one Guide obey, The dreariest path, the darkest way, Shall issue out in heavenly day. Lyra Anglicana. 191 And we on diverse shores now cast, Shall meet, our perilous voyage past, All in our Father's house at last. And ere thou leave him, say thou this, Yet one word more: they only miss The winning of that final bliss Who will not count it true that Love, Blessing, not cursing, rules above, And that in it we live and move. And one thing further make him know That to believe these things are so, This firm faith never to forego Despite of all which seems at strife With blessing, all with curses rife That this is blessing, this is life. R. C. TRENCH. 19 2 Lyra Anglicana. THE SURE COVENANT. " For this is as the waters of Noah unto Me ; for as I have sworn the waters shall no more go over the earth, so have I sworn that I would not be wroth with thee." ET the storms ply their deep and threat'- ning bass, The bow of promise shall the shades illume, Brightly descried in Faith's eternal glass, E'en like an Angel's many coloured plume Waving in tempest pledge that in her bloom Nature, emerging from the stormy mass, Will keep her time and order, Let them pass The wicked and their plottings: 'mid the gloom, The Church surveys her covenant sign, and smiles : And 'neath her solemn rainbow's dripping arch, A mystic wing spread o'er her daring march, Lyra Anglicana. 193 She goes forth, on her heavenly work the whiles, Though weeping, sure that One in joy shall bring, Her and her sheaves at harvest-moon to sing. From the Cathedral. 194 Lyra Anglicana. / AM WITH YOU ALWAYS. THOUSAND years have fleeted ; And, Saviour ! still we see Thy deed of love repeated On all who come to Thee. As he who sat benighted, Afflicted, poor, and blind ; So now, (Thy word is plighted,) Joy, light, and peace I find. Dark gloom my spirit filling, Beside the way I sat; Desire my heart was thrilling ; But anguish more than that. To me no ray was granted, Although I heard the psalms, The faithful sweetly chanted, And felt the waving palms. With grief my heart was aching ; O'erwhelming were my woes, Lyra Anglicana. 195 Till, heaven-born courage taking, To Thee my cry arose : " O David's Son, relieve me, " My bitter anguish quell ; u Thy promised succour give me, " And this dark night dispel ! " With tears that fast were flowing, I sought Thee through the crowd, My heart more tender growing, Until I wept aloud : Oh ! then my grief diminished ; For then they cried to me, " Blind man, thy woe is finished ; "Arise, He calleth thee ! " I came with steps that faltered ; Thy course I felt Thee check ; Then straight my mind was altered, And bowed my stubborn neck : Thou saidst, " What art thou seeking ? " " Oh Lord ! that I might see ! " Oh ! then I heard Thee speaking ; " Believe, and it shall be." Our hope, Lord, faileth never, When Thou Thy word dost plight : 196 Lyra Anglicana. My fears then ceased forever, And all my soul was light. Thou gavest me Thy blessing ; From former guilt set free, Now heavenly joy possessing, OLord! I follow Thee! FRANCES ELIZABETH Cox, (1841.) From Fouquc. Lyra Anglicana. 197 PASTOR ANIMARUM. OME wandering sheep, O come Pll bind thee to my breast ; I'll bear thee to thy home, And lay thee down to rest. I saw thee stray forlorn, And heard the faintly cry, And on the tree of scorn For thee I deigned to die What greater proof could I Give, than to seek the tomb ? Come, wandering sheep, O come ! I shield thee from alarms, And wilt thou not be blest ? I bear thee in my arms j Thou, bear Me in thy breast ! O, this is love come, rest This is a blissful doom. Come, wandering sheep, O come ! Lyra Catholica. Lyja Anglicana. IN MY FATHERS HOUSE. ONG did I toil, and knew no earthly rest ; Far did I rove, and found no cer- tain home ; At last I sought them in His sheltering breast, Who opes His arms, and bids the weary come : With Him I found a home, a rest divine ; And I since then am His, and He is mine. Yes ! He is mine ! and nought of earthly things, Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power, The fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings, Could tempt me to forego His love an hour. Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that's thine ! Go, I my Saviour's am, and He is mine ! Lyra Anglicana. 199 The good I have is from His stores supplied ; The ill is only what He deems the best ; He for my Friend, I'm rich with nought beside ; And poor without Him, though of all possest > Changes may come ; I take, or I resign ; Content, while I am His, and He is mine. Whatever may change, in Him no change is seen; A glorious Sun, that wanes not nor declines ; Above the clouds and storms He walks serene, And sweetly on his people's darkness shines : All may depart ; I fret not nor repine, While I my Saviour's am, while He is mine. He stays me falling, lifts me up when down, Reclaims me wandering, guards from every foe; Plants on my worthless brow the victor's crown ; Which, in return, before His feet I throw, Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine, Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine. While here, alas! I know but half His love, But half discern Him, and but half adore; 2oo Lyra Anglicana, But when I meet Him in the realms above, I hope to love Him better, praise Him more, And feel, and tell, amid the choir Divine, How fully I am His, and He is mine. HENRY FRANCIS LYTE, (1833.) Lyra Anglicana. 201 THE HOLT SCRIPTURES. i. BOOK ! infinite sweetness ! let my heart Suck every letter; and a honey gain, Precious for every grief in any part, To clear the breast, to mollify all pain. Thou art all health ; health thriving till it make A full eternity. Thou art a mass Of strange delights, where we may wish and take. ***** * * this is the well That washes what it shears. Who can endear Thy praise too much ? Thou art HeavVs lieger here, Working against the states of Death and Hell. 9* 2O2 Lyra Anglicana. ii. Oh that I knew how all thy lights combine, And the configuration of their glory ! Seeing not only how each verse doth shine, But all the constellations of the story. This verse marks that, and both do make a motion Unto a third, that ten leaves off doth lie. Then, as dispersed herbs do watch a potion, These three make up some Christian's destiny. Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good, And comments on thee. For in every thing Thy words do find me out, and parallels bring, And in another make me understood. Stars are poor books, and oftentimes do miss : This book of stars lights to eternal bliss. GEORGE HERBERT. Lyra Anglicana. 203 HOLT BAPTISM. N token that thou shalt not fear Christ crucified to own, We print the cross upon thee here, And stamp thee His alone. In token that thou shalt not blush We glory in His name, We blazon here upon thy front His glory and His shame. In token that thou shalt not fail Christ's quarrel to maintain, But 'neath His banner manfully Firm at thy post remain ; In token that thou too shalt tread The path He travelled by, Endure the cross, despise the shame, And sit thee down on high ; 204 Lyra Anglicana. Thus, outwardly and visibly, We seal thee for His own ; And may the brow that wears His cross Hereafter share His crown ! HENRY ALFORD, (1845.) Lyra Anglicana. 205" CONFIRMATION PRATER. HINE for ever ! God of love, Hear us from Thy throne above ; Thine forever may we be, Here and in eternity ! Thine for ever ! Lord of life, Shield us through our earthly strife ; Thou, the Life, the Truth, the Way, Guide us to the realms of day. Thine for ever ! O how blest They who find in Thee their rest ; Saviour, Guardian, heavenly Friend, O defend us to the end. Thine for ever ! Saviour keep These Thy frail and trembling sheep ; Safe alone beneath Thy care Let us all Thy goodness share. 206 Lyra Anglicana. Thine for ever ! Thou our Guide, All our wants by Thee supplied, All our sins by Thee forgiven, Led by Thee from earth to heaven ! Amen, Lyra Anglicana. 207 EUCHARIST. E cometh, on yon hallowed Board The ready Feast doth duly show, Where wait the chalice and the bread, Like jems within their veil of snow. He cometh, as He came of old, Suddenly to His Father's shrine, Into the hearts he died to make Meet temples for His grace Divine. He cometh, as the Bridegroom comes, Unto the feast Himself has spread ; His flesh and blood the heavenly food Wherewith the wedding guests are fed. He cometh gentle as the dew, And sweet as drops of honey clear, And good as God's own manna shower, To longing souls that meet Him here. 208 Lyra Anglicana. He cometh let not one withdraw, Nor fear to bring repented sin ; There's blood to wash, there's bread to feed, And Christ Himself to enter in. He cometh praises in the Church, And Hymns of praise in Heaven above, And in our hearts repentant faith, And love that springs to meet His love. C. F. ALEXANDER. ii. O Jesu, bruised and wounded more Than bursted grape, or bread of wheat 5 The Life of Life within our souls, The cup of our salvation sweet ; We come to shew Thy dying hour, Thy streaming vein, Thy broken flesh ; And still the blood is warm to save, And still the fragrant wounds are fresh. O heart, that with a double tide Of blood and water, maketh pure ; O flesh, once offered on the Cross, The gift that makes our pardon sure : Lyra Anglicana. 209 Let never more our sinful souls The anguish of Thy cross renew; Nor forge again the cruel nails That pierced Thy victim Body through. Come Bread of Heaven, to feed our souls, And with Thee Jesu, enter in; Come, Wine of God, and as we drink His precious blood, wash out our sin. C. F. ALEXANDER. 2 1 o Lyra Angiicana. EATING AND DRINKING WITH CHRIST. ERE I sink before Thee lowly, Filled with gladness deep and holy, As with trembling awe and wonder On Thy mighty work I ponder, On this banquet's mystery, On the depths we cannot see ; Far beyond all mortal sight Lie the secrets of Thy might. Sun, who all my life dost brighten, Light who dost my soul enlighten, Joy, the sweetest man e'er knoweth, Fount, whence all my being floweth, Humbly draw I near to Thee ; Grant that I may worthily Take this blessed heavenly food, To Thy praise, and to my good. Jesus, Bread of Life from heaven, Never be Thou vainly given, Lyra Anglicana. 211 Nor I to my hurt invited ; Be Thy love with love requited ; Let me learn its depths indeed, While on Thee my soul doth feed ; Let me, here so richly blest, Be hereafter too Thy guest. 212 Lyra Anglicana. THE HOLT COMMUNION. ELCOME sweet, sacred feast ! O welcome life ! Dead I was, and deep in trouble ; But grace and blessing came with Thee so rife, That they have quicken' d even drie stubble. Thus soules their bodies animate, And thus at first when things were rude, Dark, void, and crude, They by Thy Word their beauty had and date j All were by Thee, And still must be ; Nothing that is, or lives, But hath His Quickenings, and reprieves, As Thy hand opes or shuts ; Healings and cuts, Darkness, and day-light, life, and death Are but meer leaves turn'd by Thy breath. Spirits without Thee die, And blackness sits On the divinest wits, Lyra Anglicana. 213 As on the sun eclipses lie. But that great darkness at Thy death, When the veyl broke with Thy last breath, Did make us see The way to Thee ; And now by these sure, sacred ties, After Thy blood Our sov'rain good, Had clear' d our eies, And given us sight ; Thou dost unto Thyself betroth Our souls and bodies both In everlasting light. Was't not enough that Thou had'st pay'd the price, And given us eies, When we had none, but thou must also take Us by the hand, And keep us still awake, When we would sleep, Or from Thee creep, Who without Thee cannot stand ? Was't not enough to lose Thy breath And blood by an accursed death, But Thou must also leave To us, that did bereave 214 Lyra. Anglicana. Thee of them both, these seals, the means That should both cleanse And keep us so, Who wrought Thy wo? O Rose of Sharon ! O the Lily Of the Valley ! How art thou now, thy flock to keep, Become bothfood, and Shepheard to Thy sheep ! HENRY VAUGHN, (1650.) Lyra Anglicana. 215 REST UNTO TOUR SOULS. ORD what a change within us one short hour Spent in Thy presence will prevail to make What heavy burdens from our bosoms take, What parched grounds refresh, as with a shower ! We kneel, and all around us seems to lower ; We rise, and all, the distant and the near, Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear ; We kneel how weak, we rise how full of power ! Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong, Or others that we are not always strong ! That we are ever overborne with care ; That we should ever weak or heartless be, Anxious or troubled, when with us in prayer, And joy, and strength, and courage, are with Thee ? R. C. TRENCH. 216 Lyra Anglicana. MINISTERING 4NGELS. HEY are evermore around us, though unseen to mortal sight, In the golden hour of sunshine, and in sorrow's starless night, Deepening earth's most sacred pleasures, with the peace of sins forgiven, Whispering to the lonely mourner of the painless joys of Heaven. Lovingly they come to help us, when our faith is cold and weak, Guiding us along the pathway to the blessed Home we seek ; In our hearts we hear their voices, breathing sympathy and love, Echoes of the spirit-language in the sinless world above. They are with us in the conflict, with their words of hope and cheer, Lyra Anglicana. 217 When the foe of our salvation and his armed hosts draw near; And a greater One is with us, and we shrink not from the strife, While the Lord of angels leads us on the battle- field of life. Seldom do we think upon them, seldom we be- lieve them nigh, Like the child who deems in sunshine that the stars have left the sky ; So by this world's pleasures dazzled, scarce we feel their presence true, In foolishness and fickleness are we not children too ? Seeing all my guilt and weakness, looking down with pitying eyes, For the foolish things we cling to, and the Heaven that we despise, They have been our guardian angels since this weary world began, And they still are watching o'er for His sake who died for man ! 10 21 8 Lyra Anglicana. FOR OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN. J WEET baby, sleep ! what ails my dear, What ails my darling thus to cry ? Be still, my child, and lend thine ear, To hear me sing thy lullaby. My pretty lamb, forbear to weep ; Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep. Thou blessed soul, what canst thou fear ? What thing to thee can mischief do ? Thy God is now thy Father dear, His holy Spouse, thy mother too. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. While thus thy lullaby I sing, For thee great blessings ripening be; Lyra Anglicana. 219 Thine eldest brother is a king, And hath a kingdom bought for thee. Sweet baby then forbear to weep; Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep. Sweet baby, sleep, and nothing fear ; For whatsoever thee offends By thy protector threatened are, And God and angels are thy friends. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. When God with us was dwelling here, In little babes He took delight ; Such innocents as thou, my dear, Are ever present in His sight. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. A little infant once was He ; And strength in weakness then was laid Upon His virgin mother's knee, That power to Thee might be conveyed. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep. 22O Lyra Anglicana. The wants that He did then sustain Have purchased wealth, my babe, for thee ; And by His torments and His pain Thy rest and ease secured be. My baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. Thou hast, yet more, to perfect this, A promise and an earnest got Of gaining everlasting bliss, Though thou, my babe, perceivedst it not ; Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. GEORGE WITHERS, (1641.) Lyra Anglicana. 221 FO REFER WITH THE LORD. ET me be with Thee where Thou art, My Saviour, my eternal Rest ! Then only will this longing heart Be fully and forever blest ! Let me be with Thee where Thou art, Where spotless saints Thy Name adore ; Then only will this sinful heart Be evil and defiled no more ! Let me be with Thee where Thou art, Where none can die, where none remove ; There neither death nor life will part Me from Thy Presence and Thy love ! CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT, (1836.) 222 Lyra Anglicana. LIFE WHILE rOU LIFE. | IS not for man to trifle ! Life is brief, And sin is here. Our age is but the falling of a leaf A dropping tear. We have no time to sport away the hours ; All must be earnest in a world like ours. Not many lives, but only one have we Frail, fleeting man ! How sacred should that one life ever be That narrow span ! Day after day filled up with blessed toil ; Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil ! Our being is no shadow of thin air, No vacant dream: No fable of the things that never were, But only seem. 'Tis full of meaning as of mystery, Though strange and solemn may that meaning be. Lyra Anglicana. 223 Our sorrows are no phantoms of the night No idle tale : No cloud that floats along a sky of light, On summer gale. They are the true realities of earth Friends and companions even from our birth. O, life below, how brief, how poor, how sad ! One heavy sigh. O, life above, how long, and fair, and glad ! An endless joy. Oh ! to have done for aye with dying here ! Oh ! to begin the living in yon sphere ! O, day of time, how dark ! O, sky and earth, How dull your hue ! O, day of Christ, how bright ! O, sky and earth, Made fair and new ! Come, better Eden, with thy fresher green ! Come, brighter Salem, gladden all the scene ! BONAR. 224 Lyra Anglicana. WE KNOW THAT WE HAVE PASSED FROM DEATH UNTO LIFE, BE- CAUSE WE LOVE THE BRETHREN. HE clouds that wrap the setting sun When Autumn's softest gleams are ending, Where all bright hues together run In sweet confusion blending: Why, as we watch their floating wreath, Seem they the breath of life to breathe ? To Fancy's eye their motions prove They mantle round the sun for love. When up some woodland dell we catch The many-twinkling smile of ocean, Or with pleased ear bewildered watch His chime of restless motion ; Still as the surging waves retire They seem to grasp with strong desire, Such signs of love old Ocean gives, We cannot choose but think he lives. Lyra Anglicana. 225 Wouldst thou the life of souls discern ? Nor human wisdom nor divine Helps thee by aught beside to learn ; Love is life's only sign. The spring of the regenerate heart, The pulse, the glow of every part, Is the true love of Christ our Lord, As man embraced, as God adored. But he, whose heart will bound to mark The full bright bursts of summer morn, Loves too each each little dewy spark By leaf or floweret worn : Cheap forms, and common hues, 'tis true, Through the bright shower-drop meet his view ; The colouring may be of this earth ; The lustre comes of heavenly birth. Even so, who loves the Lord aright, No soul of man can worthless find ; All will be precious in his sight, Since Christ on all hath shined: But chiefly Christian souls ; for they, Though worn and soiled with sinful clay, Are yet, to eyes that see them rue, All glistening with baptismal dew. 10* 226 Lyra Anglicana. No distance breaks the tie of blood ; Brothers are brothers evermore ; Nor wrong, nor wrath of deadliest mood, That magic may o'erpower ; Oft, ere the common source be known, The kindred drops will claim their own, And throbbing pulses silently Move heart towards heart by sympathy. So is it with true Christian hearts j Their mutual shares in Jesus' blood An everlasting bond impart Of holiest brotherhood : Oh ! might we all our lineage prove, Give and forgive, do good and love, By soft endearments in kind strife Lightening the load of daily life ! There is much need ; for not as yet Are we in shelter or repose, The holy house is still beset With leaguer of stern foes ; Wild thoughts within, bad men without, All evil spirits round about, Are banded in unblest device, To spoil Love's earthly paradise. Then draw we nearer day by day, Each to his brethren, all to God ; Lyra Anglicana. 227 Let the world take us as she may, We must not change our road ; Not wondering, though in grief, to find The martyr's foe still keep her mind ; But fixed to hold Love's banner fast, And by submission win at last. KEBLE. 228 Lyra Anglicana. REJOICE EVERMORE. UT how shall we be glad ? We that are journeying through a vale of tears, Encompassed with a thousand woes and fears, How should not we be sad ? Angels that ever stand Within the presence chamber, and there raise The never-interrupted hymn of praise, May welcome this command : Or they whose strife is o'er, Who all their weary length of life hath trod, As pillars now within the temple of God, That shall go out no more. But we who wander here, We that are exiled in this gloomy place, Still doomed to water Earth's unthankful face With many a bitter tear Lyra Anglicana. 229 Bid us lament and mourn, Bid us that we go mourning all the day, And we will find it easy to obey, Of our best things forlorn : But not that we be glad ; If it be true the mourners are the blest, Oh, leave us in a world of sin, unrest,^ And trouble, to be sad ! I spoke and thought to weep For sin and sorrow, suffering and crime, That fill the world, all mine appointed time A settled grief to keep. When lo ! as day from night, As day from out the womb of night forlorn, So from that sorrow was that gladness born, Even in mine own despite. Yet was not that by this Excluded at the coming of that joy Fled not that grief nor did that grief destroy The newly-risen bliss : But side by side they flow, Two fountains flowing from one smitten heart And ofttimes scarcely to be known apart That gladness and that woe : 2 3 Lyra Anglicana. Two fountains from one source, Or which from two such neighboring sources run, That aye for him who shall unseal the one, The other flows perforce. And both are sweet and calm, Fair flowers upon the banks of either blow, Both fertilize the soil, and where they flow Shed round them holy balm. R. C. TRENCH. Lyra Anglicana. 231 SUN DAT. DAY most calm, most bright ! The fruit of this, the next world's bud; Th' endorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a friend, and with his blood ; The couch of time ; care's balm and bay, The week were dark, but for thy light j Thy torch doth shew the way. Sundays the pillars are On which heaven's palace arched lies: The other days fill up the space And hollow rooms with vanities. They are the fruitful beds and borders, In God's rich garden ; that is bare, Which parts their ranks and orders. The Sundays of man's life, Threaded together on time's string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternal, glorious King. 232 Lyra Anglicana. On Sunday, heaven's gate stands ope ; Blessings are plentiful and rife ; More plentiful than hope. Thou art a day of mirth : And, where the week-days trail on ground, Thy flight is higher, as thy birth. O let me take thee at the bound, Leaping with thee from seven to seven; Till that we both, being tossed from earth, Fly hand ia hand to heaven. GEORGE HERBERT. Lyra Anglicana. 233 THE LORD'S DAT. TIME of tranquil joy and holy feel ing! When over earth God's spirit from above Spreads out His wings of love ! When sacred thoughts, like angels, come appeal- ing To our tent doors ; O loeve ; to earth and heaven The sweetest of the seven ! How peaceful are thy skies ! thy air is clearer, As on the advent of a gracious time : The sweetness of its prime Blesseth the world, and Eden's days seem nearer : I hear, in each faint stirring of the breeze, God's voice among the trees. O while thy hallowed moments are distilling Their fresher influence on my heart like dews, The chamber when I muse 234 Lyra Anglicana. Turns to a temple ! He, whose converse thrill- ing Honored Emmatis, that old eventide, Comes sudden to my side. 'Tis light at evening time when Thou art pres ent ; Thy coming to the eleven in that dim room Brightened, O Christ ! its gloom : So bless my lonely hour that memories pleasant Around the time a heavenly gleam may cast, Which many days shall last ! Raise each low aim, refine each high emotion, That with more ardent footstep I may press Toward Thy holiness; And, braced for sacred duty by devotion, Support my cross along that rugged road Which Thou hast sometimes trod ! I long to see Thee, for my heart is weary : O when, my Lord! in kindness wilt Thou come To call Thy banished home ? The scenes are cheerless, and the days are dreary ; From sorrow and from sin I would be free, And evermore with Thee! Lyra Anglicana. 2 35 Even now I see the golden city shining Up the blue depths of that transparent air: How happy all is there ! There breaks a day which never knows declin- ing; A Sabbath, through whose circling hours the blest Beneath Thy shadow rest ! JAMES D. BURNS, (1855.) 236 Lyra Anglicana. EARLY RISING AND PRATER. HEN first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave To do the like ; our bodies but forerun The spirit's duty :(true hearts spread and heave Unto their God, as flowers do to the sun : Give Him thy first thoughts then, so shalt thou keep Him company all day, and in Him sleepA Yet never sleep the sun up ; prayer should Dawn with the day : there are set awful hours 'Twixt heaven and us ; the manna was not good After sun-rising ; for day sullies flowers : Rise to prevent the sun ; sleep doth sins glut, And heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut. Lyra Anglicana. 237 Walk with thy fellow creatures ; note the hush And whispering amongst them. Not a spring Or leaf but hath his morning hymn ; each bush And oak doth know I AM. Canst thou not sing ! O leave thy cares and follies ! Go this way, And thou art sure to prosper all the day. Serve God before the world ; let him not go Until thou hast a blessing ; then resign The whole unto him and remember who Prevail'd by wrestling ere the sun did shine ; Pour oil upon the stones, weep for thy sin, Then journey on and have an eye to heaven. Mornings are mysteries ; the first, the world's youth, Man's resurrection, and the future's bud, Shroud in their births ; the crown of life, light, truth Is styl'd their star ; the stone and hidden food : Three blessings wait upon them, one of which Should move, they make us holy, happy, rich. When the world's up, and every swarm abroad, Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay ; 238 Lyra Anglicana. Despatch necessities ; life hath a load Which must be carried on, and safely may ; Yet keep those cares without thee ; let the heart Be God's alone, and choose the better part. HENRY C. VAUGHN, (1614.) Lyra Anglicana. 239 MORNING. TIMELY happy, timely wise, Hearts that with rising morn arise ! Eyes that the beam celestial view, Which evermore makes all things new ! New every morning is the love Our wakening and uprising prove, Through sleep and darkness safely brought, Restored to life, and power, and thought. New mercies, each returning day, Hover around us while we pray ; New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven, If, on our daily course, our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still, of countless price, God will provide the sacrifice. 240 Lyra Anglicana. Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be, As more of Heaven in each we see ; Some softening gleam of love and prayer Shall dawn on every cross and care. As for some dear familiar strain Untired we ask, and ask again ; Ever, in its melodious store, Finding a spell unheard before ; Such is the bliss of souls serene, When they have sworn, and steadfast mean, Counting the cost, in all t'espy Their God, in all themselves deny. O could we learn that sacrifice, What lights would all around us rise ! How would our hearts with wisdom talk Along life's dullest, dreariest walk ! We need not bid, for cloistered cell, Our neighbour and our work farewell, Nor strive to wind ourselves too high For sinful man beneath the sky : The trivial round, the common task, Will furnish all we ought to ask ; Lyra Anglicana. 241 Room to deny ourselves ; a road To bring us, daily, nearer God. Seek we no more : content with these, Let present rapture, comfort, ease, As Heaven shall bid them, come and go ; The secret this, of rest below. Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love Fit us for perfect rest above ; And help us, this day and every day, To live more nearly as we pray. \ JOHN KEBLE, (1827.) ii 242 Lyra Anglicana. THY DAY IS. INCE Thou hast added now, O God! Unto my life another day, And giv'st me leave to walk abroad, And labour in my lawful way ; My walks and works with me begin, Conduct me forth, and bring me in. In every power my soul enjoys Internal virtues to improve ; In every sense that she employs In her external works to move ; Bless her, O God ! and keep me sound From outward harm and inward wound. Let sin nor Satan's fraud prevail To make mine eye of reason blind, Or faith, or hope, or love to fail, Or any virtues of the mind ; But more and more let them increase, And bring me to mine end in peace. Lyra Anglicana. 243 Lewd courses let my feet forbear ; Keep Thou my hands from doing wrong ; Let not ill counsels pierce mine ear, Nor wicked words defile my tongue ; And keep the windows of each eye That no strange lust climb in thereby. But guard Thou safe my heart in chief; That neither hate, revenge, nor fear, Nor vain desire, vain joy or grief, Obtain command or dwelling there : And, Lord ! with every saving grace, Still true to Thee maintain that place ! So till the evening of this morn My time shall then so well be spent, That when the twilight shall return I may enjoy it with content, And to Thy praise and honour say, That this hath proved a happy day. GEORGE WITHERS, (1641). 244 Lyra Anglicana. ABIDE WITH US. BIDE with me; fast falls the eventide ; The darkness ; Lord, with me abide : i When other keepers fail, and com- forts flee, Help of the helpless ; O abide with me. Swift to the close ebbs out life's little day ; Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away ; Changes and decay in all around I see ; Thou who changest not, abide with me ! 1 need Thy presence every passing hour ; What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power ? Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be ? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me ! Lyra Anglicana. 245 I fear no foe : with Thee at hand to bless, Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness; Where is death's sting ? where, grave, thy victory ? I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes ; Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies ; Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee, In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me ! LYTE. 246 Lyra Anglicana. EVENING. UN of my soul, Thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near; Oh ! may no earth-born cloud arise To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes! When round Thy wondrous works below My searching rapturous glance I throw, Tracing out wisdom, power, and love, In earth or sky, in stream or grove ; Or, by the light Thy words disclose, Watch time's full river as it flows, Scanning Thy gracious Providence, Where not too deep for mortal sense ; When with dear friends sweet talk I hold, And all the flowers of life unfold ; Let not my heart within me burn, Except in all I Thee discern ! Lyra Anglicana. 247 When the soft dews of kindly sleep My wearied eyelids gently steep, Be my last thoughts, how sweet to rest For ever on my Saviour's breast ! Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live ! Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I dare not die ! Thou framer of the light and dark, Steer through the tempest Thine own ark ! Amid the howling mighty sea We are in port if we have Thee. The rulers of this Christian land, Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand, Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright ! Let all do all as in Thy sight ' Oh ! by Thine own sad burthen, borne So meekly up the hill of scorn, Teach Thou Thy priests their daily cross, To bear as Thine, nor count it loss ! If some poor wandering child of Thine Have spurned to-day the voice divine ; 248 Lyra Anglicana. Now, Lord, the gracious work begin ; Let him no more lie down in sin ! Watch by the sick enrich the poor With blessings from Thy boundless store ! Be every mourner's sleep to-night Like infant's slumber, pure and light ! Come near and bless us when we wake, Ere through the world our way we take ; Till, in the ocean of Thy love, We lose ourselves in Heaven above ! JOHN KEBLE, (1827.) Lyra Anglicana. 249 DAT BT DAY WE MAGNIFY THEE. TAR of morn and even, Sun of Heaven's heaven, Saviour high and dear, Toward us turn Thine ear ; Through whatever may come, Thou canst lead us home. Though the gloom be grievous, Those we leant on leave us, Though the coward heart, Quit its proper part, Though the tempter come, Thou wilt lead us home. Saviour pure and holy, Lover of the lowly, Sign us with Thy sign, Take our hands in Thine, Take our hands and come, Lead Thy children home ! n* 250 Lyra Anglicana. Star of morn and even, Shine on us from Heaven, From Thy glory-throne Hear Thy very own ! Lord and Saviour come, Lead us to our home ! FRANCIS TURNER PALGROVE, (1862.) Lyra Anglicana. 251 / AM WITH YOU ALWAYS. OT Thou from us, O Lord, but we Withdraw ourselves from Thee. When we are dark and dead And Thou art covered with a cloud, Hanging before Thee, like a shroud, So that our prayers can find no way, Oh ! teach us that we do not say, "Where is Thy brightness fled?" But that we search and try What in ourselves has wrought this blame ; For Thou remainest still the same, But earth's own vapours earth may fill With darkness and thick clouds, while still The sun is in the sky. R. C. TRENCH. 252 Lyra Anglicana. / WILL ARISE AND GO TO MY FATHER. UST as I am without one plea, But that Thy blood was shed for me, And that Thou bid'st me come to Thee O Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am and waiting not To rid my soul of one dark blot, To Thee, Whose blood can cleanse each spot O Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am though tossed about With many a conflict, many a doubt, With fears within and foes without O Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am poor, weary, blind ; Sight, riches, healing of the mind, Yea, all I need, in Thee I find O Lamb of God, I come. Lyra Anglicana. 253 Just as I am Thou wilt receive, Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve, Because Thy promise I believe O Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am Thy love, unknown, Has broken every barrier down ; Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone O Lamb of God, I come. CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT. 254 ^yra Anglicana. THIS DID NOT ONCE SO TROUBLE ME. HIS did not once so trouble me, That better I could not love Thee, But now I feel and know That only when we love, we find How far our hearts remain behind The love they should bestow. While we had little care to call On Thee, and scarcely prayed at all, We seemed enough to pray : But now we only think with shame, How seldom to Thy glorious Name Our lips their offerings pay. And when we gave yet slighter heed Unto our brother's suffering need, Our hearts reproached us then Not half so much as now, that we With such a careless eye can see The woes and wants of men. Lyra Anglicana. 255 In doing this is knowledge won, To see what yet remains undone ; With this our pride repress, And give us grace a growing store, That day by day we may do more, And may esteem it less. R. C. TRENCH. 256 Lyra Anglicana. A WALK IN A CHURCHTARD. E walked within the churchyard bounds, My little boy and I He laughing, running happy rounds, I pacing mournfully. " Nay, child ! it is not well," I said, " Among the graves to shout, To laugh and play among the dead, And make this noisy rout." A moment to my side he clung, Leaving his merry play, A moment stilled his joyous tongue, Almost as hushed as they : Then quite forgetting the command In life's exulting burst Of early glee, let go my hand, Joyous as at the first. Lyra Anglicana. 257 And now I did not check him more, For, taught by Nature's face, I had grown wiser than before Even in that moment's space. She spread no funeral-pall above That patch of churchyard ground, But the same azure vault of love As hung o'er all around. And white clouds o'er that spot would pass, As freely as elsewhere ; The sunshine on no other grass A richer hue might wear. And formed from out that very mould In which the dead did lie, The daisy with its eye of gold Looked up into the sky. The rook was wheeling overhead, Nor hastening to be gone The small bird did its glad notes shed, Perched on a gray head-stone. And God, I said, would never give This light upon the earth, Nor bid in childhood's heart to live These springs of gushing mirth 258 Lyra Anglicana. If our one wisdom were to mourn, And linger with the dead, To nurse, as wisest, thoughts forlorn Of worm and earthy bed. Oh, no ! the glory earth puts on, The child's unchecked delight, Both witness to a triumph won, (If we did but read aright) A triumph won o'er sin and death, From these the Saviour saves ; And like a happy infant, Faith Can play among the graves. R. C. TRENCH. Lyra Anglicana. 259 THE WANDERER. AR from the Shepherd's one true fold I stray, In pathways all unknown ; O dark and gloomy is the woeful day That finds me here alone. My hopes are blighted, and my heart bereft Of comfort and repose, Because the Shepherd's blessed Fold I left, To wander where I chose. I sought more liberty and less restraint ; My will I wished to please ; And all day long I made a vain complaint, In greater rest and ease. At last I broke away and left the flock, To find a desert bare No food, no cooling stream, no sheltering rock, False dreams and blank despair. 260 Lyra Anglicana. O for the Fold, the blessed Fold once more ! O for the Shepherd's hand, To guide me back, and lead me as of yore In verdant pasture land ! O seek me, tender Shepherd, lest I die ; Find me and take me home ; Once there again in calm security, My feet shall never roam. Thy staff may strike I will not shrink again, Or spurn Thy warning voice, Or seek a pathway without toil or pain, Of mine own erring choice. But in the footsteps of the flock, Thy way With duteous love I'll take, And strive to curb my will, and day by day All devious ways forsake. Then seek me tender Shepherd, lest I die, Or further from Thee roam ; In pity heed Thy wanderer's heart-wrung cry, And bring me safely home. E. L. LEE. Lyra Anglicana. 261 UNTO THE PERFECT DAT. UR course is onward, onward into light: What though the darkness gathereth amain, Yet to return or tarry, both are vain. How tarry, when around is thick night ? Whither return ? what flower yet ever might, In days of gloom, and cold, and stormy rain, Enclose itself in its green bud again, Hiding from wrath of tempest out of sight? Courage ! we travel through a darksome cave ; But still as nearer to the light we draw, Fresh gales will reach us from the upper air, And wholesome dews of heaven our foreheads lave, The darkness lighten more, till full of awe We stand in the open sunshine unaware. R. C. TRENCH. 262 Lyra Anglicana. VIRTUE. WEET Day ! so cool, so calm, so bright ; The bridal of the earth and sky : The dew shall weep thy fall to- night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose ! whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye : Thy root is ever in its grave : And thou must die. Sweet Spring ! full of sweet days and roses ; A box where sweets compacted lie ; My music shews you have your closes : And all must die. Lyra Anglicana. 263 Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives ; But, though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives. GEORGE HERBERT. 264 Lyra Anglicana. DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST. HE glories of our birth and state, Are shadows not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate: Death lays his icy hands on kings ; Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves at last must yield, They tame but one another still ; Early or late, They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Lyra Anglicana. 265 Upon Death's purple altar, now, See where the victor victim bleeds : All heads must come To the cold tomb, Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. JAMES SHIRLEY, (1646.) 12 266 Lyra Anglicana. MY LIFE DRAWETH NIGH TO THE GRAVE. O rest, my Rest, For ever blest, Thy grave with sinners making By Thy precious death from sin My dead soul awaking. Here hast Thou lain, After much pain, Life of my life, reposing: Round Thee now a rock-hewn grave, Rock of ages closing. Breath of all breath, I know, from death Thou wilt my dust awaken ; Wherefore should I dread the grave, Or my faith be shaken ? Lyra Anglicana. 267 To me the tomb Is but a room Where I lie down on roses ; Who by death hath conquered death, Sweetly there reposes. The body dies (Nought else) and lies In dust, until victorious From the grave it shall arise Beautiful and glorious. Meantime I will, My Jesus still Deep in my bosom lay Thee, Musing on Thy death : in death Be with me, I pray Thee. 268 Lyra Anglicana. THE JERUSALEM THAT IS ABOVE. i. RIEF life is here our portion ; Brief sorrow, short-lived care ; The life that knows no ending, The tearless life, is there. O happy retribution Short toil, eternal rest : For mortals and for sinners A mansion with the blest. And now we fight the battle, But then shall wear the crown Of full and everlasting And passionless renown : And now we watch and struggle, And now we live in hope, Lyra Anglicana. 269 And Sion in her anguish With Babylon must cope : But He whom now we trust in Shall then be seen and known ; And they that know and see Him Shall have Him for their own. The morning shall awaken, The shadows flee away, And each true-hearted seryant Shall shine as doth the day. There God, our King and Patron, In fulness of His grace, Shall we behold forever And worship face to face. II. For thee, O dear, dear country, Mine eyes their vigils keep ; For very love beholding Thy happy name, they weep. The mention of Thy glory Is unction to the breast, And medicine in sickness, And love, and light, and rest. 270 Lyra Anglicana. O one, O only Mansion ! O Paradise of Joy ! Where tears are ever banished, And smiles have no alloy : The Lamb is all thy splendour, The Crucified thy praise ; His land and benediction Thy ransomed people praise. With jasper glow thy bulwarks, Thy streets with emeralds blaze ; The sardius and the topaz Unite in thee their rays ; Thine ageless walls are bonded With amethyst unpriced ; The saints build up the fabric, And the corner-stone is Christ. Thou hast no shore, fair ocean ! Thou hast no time, bright day ! Dear fountain of refreshment To pilgrims far away ! Upon the Rock of Ages They raise thy holy tower ; Thine is the victor's laurels, And thine the golden dower. Lyra Anglicana. 271 in. Jerusalem the golden ! With milk and honey blest ! Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice opprest. I know not, oh ! I know not What joys await us there j What radiancy of glory, What bliss beyond compare. They stand, those halls of Sion, All jubilant with song, And bright with many an Angel, And all the martyr throng: The Prince is ever in them, The daylight ever bright ; The pastures of the blessed Are decked in glorious light. There is the throne of David ; And there from care released, The shout of them that triumph, The song of them that feast ; And they, who with their Leader Have conquered in the fight, 27*2 Lyra Anglicana. Forever and forever And clad in robes of white. O sweet and blessed country, The home of God's elect ! O sweet and blessed country, That eager hearts expect ! Jesu, in mercy bring us To that dear land of rest : Who art, with God the Father, And Spirit, ever blest. Amen. From St. Bernard. Lyra Anglicana. 273 LIFE. MADE a posy, while the day ran by; Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band." But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they By noon most cunningly did steal away, And wither in my hand. My hand was next to them, and then my heart. I took, without more thinking, in good part Time's gentle admonition ; Who did so sweetly death's sad task convey, Making my mind to smell my fatal day, Yet sugaring my suspicion. Farewell dear flowers ! sweetly your time ye spent ; Fit, while ye liv'd, for smell or ornament ; 12* 274 Lyra Anglicana. And, after death, for cures. I follow straight, without complaint or grief 5 Since, if my scent be good, I care not if It be short as yours. GEORGE HERBERT, (1620.) Lyra Anglicana. 275 SEEKING A COUNTRY. \ OT here ! not here ! not where the sparkling waters Fade into mocking sands as we draw near, Where in the wilderness each footstep falters " I shall be satisfied ! "but oh, not here ! Not here where all the dreams of bliss deceive us, Where the worn spirit never gains its goal ; Where, haunted ever by the thoughts that grieve us, Across us floods of bitter memory roll. There is a land where every pulse is thrilling With rapture earth's sojourners may not know, Where Heaven's repose the weary heart is stilling, And peacefully life's time-tossed currents flow. Far out of sight, while sorrows still enfold us, Lies the fair Country where our hearts abide, 276 Lyra Anglicana. And of its bliss is nought more wondrous told us, Than these few words, " I shall be satisfied." " I shall be satisfied ! " The spirit's yearning For sweet companionship with kindred minds The silent love that here meets no returning The inspiration which no language finds Shall they be satisfied ? The soul's vague long- ing The aching void which nothing earthly fills ? O ! what desires upon my heart are thronging, As I look upward to the heavenly hills ! Thither my weak and weary steps are tending Saviour and Lord! with Thy frail child abide ! Guide me toward Home, where, all my wander- ings ending, I shall see Thee, and " shall be satisfied." Lyra Anglicana. 277 MT SHEEP HEAR Mr VOICE. ARK ! hark ! my soul ! angelic songs are swelling O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave-beat shore ! How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling Of that new life when sin shall be no more ! Darker than night, life's shadows fall around us, And, like benighted men, we miss our mark j God hides Himself, and grace hath scarcely found us, Ere death finds out his victims in the dark ! Onward we go, for still we hear them singing, Come weary souls ! for Jesus bids you come ! And through the dark its echoes, sweetly ringing, The music of the Gospel leads us home. Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing, The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea, 278 Lyra Anglicana. And laden souls, by myriads meekly stealing, Kind Shepherd, turn their weary steps to Thee. Rest comes at length ; though life be long and dreary, The day must dawn and darksome night be past; All journeys end in welcomes to the weary, And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last. Cheer up my soul ! faith's moonbeams softly glisten Upon the breast of life's most troubled sea ; And it will cheer thy drooping heart to listen To those brave songs which angels mean for thee. Angels ! sing on, your faithful watches keeping, Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above ; While we toil on, and soothe ourselves with weeping, Till life's long night shall break in endless love. Oratory Hymns. Lyra Anglicana. 279 THE DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN. HE Apostle slept, a light shone in the prison, An angel touched his side ; "Arise!" he said; and quickly he hath risen, His fettered arms untied. The watchers saw no light at midnight gleam- ing, They heard no sound of feet ; The gates fly open, and the saint, still dream- ing, Stands free upon the street. So when the Christian's eyelid droops and closes In nature's parting strife, A friendly Angel stands where he reposes, To wake him up to life. 280 Lyra Anglicana. He gives a gentle blow, and so releases The spirit from its clay ; From sin's temptations, and from life's dis- tresses, He bids it come away. It rises up, and from its darksome mansion It takes its silent flight ; And feels its freedom in the large expansion Of heavenly air and light. Behind, it hears Time's iron gates close faintly, It now is far from them ; For it has reached the City of the saintly, The New Jerusalem. A voice is heard on earth of kinsfolk weeping The loss of one they love : But he is gone where the redeemed are keeping A Festival above ! The mourners throng the way, and from the steeple The funeral-bell tolls slow ; But on the golden streets the holy people Are passing to and fro ; Lyra Anglicana. 281 And singing as they meet, " Rejoice ! another, Long waited for, is come ; " The Saviour's heart is glad, a younger brother Hath reached the Father's Home ! J. D. BURNS. 282 Lyra Anglicana. THE VANITY OF THE WORLD. ALSE world, thou ly'st: thou canst not lend The least delight: Thy favours cannot gain a friend, They are so slight : Thy morning's pleasures make an end To please at night : Poor are the wants that thou supply's!, And yet thou vaun'st, and yet thou vy'st With heaven ; fond earth, thou boasts ; false world, thou ly'st. Thy babbling tells of golden tales Of endless treasure; Thy bounty offers easy sales Of lasting pleasure ; Thou ask'st the conscience what she ails, And swear'st to ease her: There's none can want where thou sup- ply'st: Lyra Anglicana. 283 There's none can give where thou deny'st. Alas! fond world, thou boasts; false world, thou ly'st. What well-advis6d ear regards What earth can say ? Thy words are gold, but thy rewards Are painted clay : Thy cunning can but pack the cards, Thou canst not play : Thy game at weakest, still thou vy'st ; If seen, and then revy'd, deny'st: Thou art not what thou seem'st ; false world, thou ly'st. Thy timid bosom seems a mint Of new-coin'd treasure ; A paradise, that has no stint, No change, no measure; A painted cask, but nothing in't, Nor wealth, nor pleasure : Vain earth ! that falsely thus comply'st With man ; vain man ! that thou rely'st On earth, vain man, thou dot'st ; vain earth, thou ly'st. What mean dull souls, in this high measure, To haberdash 284 Lyra Anglicana. To earth's base wares, whose greatest treasure Is dross and trash ? The height of whose enchanting pleasure Is but a flash ? Are these the goods that thou supply'st Us mortals with ? are these the high'st ? Can these bring cordial peace ? false world, thou ly'st. F. QUARLES. Lyra Anglicana. 285 ALL THE ANGELS STOOD ABOUT THE THRONE. HERE is no night in heaven: In that blest world above Work never can bring weariness, For work itself is love. There is no night in heaven: Yet nightly round the bed Of every Christian wanderer Faith has an angel tread. There is no grief in heaven : For life is one glad day, And tears are of those former things Which all have passed away. There is no grief in heaven : Yet angels from on high On golden pinions earthward glide, The Christian's tears to dry. 286 Lyra Anglicana. There is no want in heaven : The Lamb of God supplies Life's tree of twelvefold fruitage still, Life's spring which never dries. There is no want in heaven : Yet in a desert land The fainting prophet was sustained And fed by angel's hand. There is no sin in heaven : Behold that blessed throng ; All holy is their spotless robe, All holy is their song. There is no sin in heaven : Here who from sin is free? Yet angels aid us in our strife For Christ's true liberty. There is no death in heaven: For they who gain that shore Have won their immortality, And they can die no more. There is no death in heaven : But, when the Christian dies, The angels wait his parting soul, And waft it to the skies. Lyra Anglicana. 287 THE LAMB IS THE LIGHT THEREOF. HAT clime is not like this dull clime of ours ; All, all is brightness there ; A sweeter influence breathes around its flowers, And a benigner air. No calm below is like that calm above, No region here is like that realm of love ; Earth's softest spring ne'er shed so soft a light, Earth's brightest summer never shone so bright. That sky is not like this sad sky of ours, Tinged with earth's change and care : No shadow dims it, and no rain-cloud lowers : No broken sunshine there : One everlasting stretch of azure pours Its stainless splendour o'er those sinless shores : For there Jehovah shines with heavenly ray, And Jesus reigns dispensing endless day. 288 Lyra Anglicana. The dwellers there are not like those of earth ; No mortal stain they bear j And yet they seem of kindred blood and birth ; Whence and how came they there ? Earth was their native soil ; from sin and shame, Through tribulation, they to glory came ; Bond-slaves delivered from sin's crushing load, Brands plucked from burning by the hand of God. Yon robes of theirs are not like those below ; No angel's half so bright : Whence came that beauty, whence that living glow, And whence that radiant white ? Washed in the blood of the atoning Lamb, Fair as the light these robes of theirs became ; And now, all tears wiped off from every eye, They wander where the freshest pastures lie, Through all the nightless day of that unfading sky. * - A 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. L.D PM General Library University of California Berkeley [From " The Atlantic JfontMy.") CHICAGO. BY JOHN O. WH1TTIEB. IEN said at \ II is well! n one wild night the cit} 7 fell; 'ell shrines of prayer and marts of gain efore the tiery hurricane. )n threescore spires l|ad sunset shone, Vbere ghastly sunrise looked on none, (en clasped each other's hands, and said : :he City of the West Is dead 1 Irave hearts who fought, in slow retreat, 'he fiends of tire from street to street, 'urned, powerless, to the blinding glare, .'he dumb detiance of despair. I sudden impulse thrilled each wire :hat ei-naled round that sea of tire, wift Avords ** came ; n tears of pit 'rom East, North, !"he messages md, underlie 'ue world, fu 4.1C520 'air seemed t 'he new the Vith dearer h 'or love shall Use, stricken 'he ashen sac .nd build, as 'o songs of cl low shrivele< 'he primal sir [ow instant 'he angel in t ,h ! not in vain the flames that tossed . .bove thy dreadful holocaust; he Chris't again has preached through thee he Gospel of Humanity ! 'hen lift once more thy towers on high, .nd fret with spires the Western sky, 'o tell that God is yet with us, nd love is still miraculous! UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Hffi 1 HHJ m&m i :